Redneck of Roanapur
by BigCountry75
Summary: Country has a problem: He needs to get out of the States and fast. With the Law breathing down his neck, he steals a plane and escapes a world away to Roanapur. Shenanigans ensue as Lagoon and the city react to the newcomer's down home antics.
1. Chapter 1

"Shit." Ah cursed to mah-self as Ah took another corner at 90 mile an hour. "Shit, shitshitshitshitshit, shiiiiitttt!" Ah yelled, punching the dashboard of tha truck with each word. Finally Ah hit one too many times an' broke tha radio, tha glass display shattered an' cut my knuckles. Tha twangy lyrics of tha country station fizzled out, drawing a long sigh. "Man, that was mah faverit song too…"

Ah looked in tha mirror, still no cops…yet. Things had gone south faster than ah $10 hooker but at least tha boys in blue hadn't caught up to yers truly…again…yet. Ah took another corner and put tha truck up on two wheels as Ah rocketed past tha church an' courthouse. What Ah failed tah see was tha Sheriff's Deputy parked behind tha courthouse.

"Oh man, that was not what Ah ordered." Ah growled, glancing up at tha flashin' lights in my mirror.

"Pull over to the berm now!" Tha Deputy ordered over his microphone.

"Buddy, ya ain't got any idea who yer tanglin' with." Ah thought, tearing down tha hill t'wards tha twin bridges between tha cities. Ah crossed tha first bridge and hit tha island between tha two with ah jarring bang…Ah knew Ah should've gotten mah suspension fixed. From mah right, down in tha dockyards, a State Trooper pulled out from behind a warehouse. I could see his single red roof light flashing in tha dark.

At tha next bridge, tha crossguards were down and tha bridge was opening to let ah midnight cruisin' sailboat pass.

"Well, truck's already full-ah holes and Ah've already got tha charges on me, what's one more to tha list?" Ah smashed through tha crossguards an' cleared tha bridge but landed hard on mah front left tire. Tha truck bottomed out on that tire, popping it an' destroying tha suspension. Tha Sheriff's Deputy screeched to ah stop at tha bottom of tha raised bridge, but tha State Trooper cleared tha gap in perfect form. Them State Troopers…they're ah dedicated bunch ain't they?

Tha dark blue Charger was now alongside me. My speed was down with tha blown tire, but Ah was still doin' 70 as we sped down tha main drag. It was ah good thing it was four in tha mornin' an' tha roads were empty. More cars out here on tha road would only make life difficult…well, more difficult than needed anyhow.

Ah glanced over at tha Charger, he was slowly droppin' back, probably getting' ready to P.I.T. me. Well officer, two can play that game. To our right was ah long line of parked cars and tha Charger was conveniently on my right. Ah tapped tha brake jest enough tah git alongside him. Now, time tah git him loose an' put him intah tha wall. Ah swung tha truck right hard, knocking tha Charger up onto tha sidewalk. He corrected ah second too slow an' smashed head-on intah tha line of cars.

Ah didn't have tha luxury to stop an' admire my handiwork an' see if he was still pursuing me. Ah swerved off tha main road, loopin' through tha residential streets. Ah went about three or four blocks until Ah found an empty lot next to ah boarded up building. Ah pulled 'round back with tha truck blocked from tha road by tha dumpster wall. Once Ah killed tha engine, Ah groaned an' laid mah head on tha wheel.

"Well…sure didn't peg this when ya got up this mornin' did ya?" Ah hopped out of tha truck an' bent to look at tha front tire. Ah glared at it like it was a dog that'd jest pissed on tha livin' room carpet.

"W'all that's jest great….wonderful…of all the things tah happen of ALL FUCKIN' TIMES!" Ah yelled, spinnin' an' kickin' an empty paint can 'cross tha lot. "Arrrrrggghhhhh! God fuckin' damn it all! Damn it all tah hell!" Ah was pacin' in circles, tryin' desp'rately tah simmer down. Mah head was throbbin', mah heart had moved from mah chest an' was hammerin' away in mah throat, Ah couldn't hold mah hands still tah save mah life…Ah was quickly comin' apart.

"Okay…okay…breathe man…breathe…" Ah kept saying. Mah heart began tah slow; blood pressure was goin' back tah normal. "Goin' full Redneck right now ain't gonna solve anythin'. Think. What do ya know…and what do ya need tah know?" Ah stood with mah hands on mah hips an' stared down at mah steel-toed boots. Ah admired tha black-ish red blood stains, how they were pattered across tha toes and even spilled over to the cuff-a my jeans.

Okay…whadaya know? Well, yer wanted. Alive at least, so ya got that goin' fer ya, which is great. There's multiple charges ah course, not includin' today's little escapade. Ah recall it added to…30…40…50 years? Now, tack on tah-day. Evading police, resistin' arrest, assualtin' an officer…multiple counts, assault with ah weapon…multiple counts. Hell, they'd probably slap me with damage tah property too, that's another year. Every-thang keeps addin' up, cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching…'cept instead ah dollar signs, all Ah see is another year in a room with ah fat skinhead everybody calls "Tiny".

Well jail is obviously out. Ah won' go willin'lly, so there's that. Can' go home. Can' stay in tah state, rate Ah'm goin' they'll have tha Guard on me 'fore long. Boat's too slow. Trains are quicker but easier tah track. Ah car is risky…Ah looked over at mah truck. Tha blown tire, tha cracked windshield, tha holes in tha door, holes in tha radiator, holes in tha tailgate, tha puddle of somethin' important poolin' under tha engine…an' this truck is purdy much dead. All that's really left is airplanes. Now, where in Sam Hill am Ah 'sposed to get one of those?

Ah looked around at some of tha garbage, maybe there'd be inspiration, ya never know. Ah pamphlet with ah P51 Mustang on tha cover caught mah eye, Ah always did have a thing fer planes. Ah picked it up an' leaned against tha truck to read.

THIS WEEKEND ONLY! The "Lest We Forget" Extravaganza! WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam Displays. Vehicles, Aircraft and Artifacts from America's Fighting past! Come on down to the BH Airport this Friday, Saturday and Sunday for a family-friendly weekend of fun and remembrance. The first 100 to enter the gate will be eligible to win a free ride in a genuine B-24 Liberator Bomber that helped bring down the Nazis!

Huh…ah genuine B-24 Liberator. Well by gosh, that'd sure be ah real sight tah see…Ah wonder…

. . .

The crew of the B-24J "Sally May" had woken up early to perform all their last minute checks, maintenance and top off the fuel tanks. It was going to be a long day of flying all over the area, buzzing the beach and dazzling the town below. They had stopped at the airport's diner for a well-earned breakfast and were halfway through their coffee and pancakes. The main hangar had a phone that was wired to a phone in the diner, in case of something happening on the field…and it started to ring. The waitress answered it and had to hold the phone at arms-length from her ear because whoever was on the other end was in full hysterics.

"Jerry." The waitress waved the Liberator's pilot over. "I think it's for you."

"Hello, this is Jerry. What? Wha…hang, hang on…buddy, slow, slow down…WHOA WHOA WHOA! Stop! Take a breath son and start over. What's goin' on?"

"Oh God I'm so sorry! I tried to stop him, he's crazy! He crashed through the gate with his truck…"

"What are you babblin' on about, you didn't spray yourself with ether again did you?"

"Jerry! Someone is stealin' the plane!" Jerry stood for a moment, not believing what the mechanic on the other end was saying.

"Listen to me Jack…this had better be a joke, because I'm not laughing."

"No man! Get your asses over here and help me!"

The crew piled into their truck and threw gravel as they headed for the hangar. They could see the B-24 on the tarmac, Engines 1 and 3 started and Engine 2 beginning to turn over. The crew drove through the smashed chain link gate, their tires crunching over the glass of shattered headlights. They pulled up even with the plane, next to the hanger. Jack the mechanic ran out from the hangar, bleeding from the nose.

"Did he punch you in the nose?"

"No, I tripped getting' out of the way. Of course he punched me in the nose! I tried to call the cops on my phone, but this POS got no signal."

"Well, there's five of us and one of him, let's get our plane back!" The crew started toward the plane. The window on the pilot's side popped open and a large revolver appeared in the gap.

"That'd be close 'nough genellmen! I'm awful sorry 'bout this but Ah got no other options. Ah want tah thank yah kindly fer fillin' up tha tanks. Oh, an' which one ah-y'all is Jerry?" Jerry begrudgingly and slowly raised his hand.

"Thanks fer leavin' tha start-up checklist on tha front seat! Really helped ah lot!" The other crew members glared at Jerry for aiding (albeit unknowingly) in GTB…Grand Theft Bomber.

. . .

"Ah'll promise ya this much genellemen." Ah yelled as Ah started Engine 4. "Ah'll take good care of her, treat her right and if Ah can, bring 'er back one day." Tha engines were all turnin', oil pressure was good, RPM for all engines was good, fuel pressure was good, flaps were set fer take-off…time tah take this rodeo vertical. Ah tapped tha rudder pedals tah take off tha brakes an' began to taxi tah tha runway. Tha crew stood aghast as they watched tha dull green plane lumber down tha runway an' slowly lift off. They kept watchin', transfixed as their plane disappeared over tha horizon…

. . .

A world away in Roanapur, the day was just like any other. The regular sounds of a city were occasionally broken by the wailing of police sirens and bursts of random gunfire. Actually, those are the normal sounds of Roanapur, never mind.

"Yaaaaaaaawwwwnnnnn…." Revy stretched on the couch, arching her back and sticking out her long legs. "I'm borrreedd…Rock, what're you doing?" The red-headed Chinese-American girl asked, throwing a balled-up napkin at Rock. He was sitting as his desk, staring out the window overlooking the harbor.

"I'm just calculating the Lagoon's fuel efficiency." Replied the Japanese businessman; playing with his tie as he reviewed the spreadsheet before him. "We seem to be burning a lot more gas than usual…maybe engine problems?"

"Yeah, number one has been givin' me trouble." Dutch said between bites of pizza. The mountainous and dark captain was wearing his usual sunglasses, flak jacket and high-cut boots, propped up on his desk.

"I'll have to put in an order for more parts, maybe get an upgrade. What about you Benny, need any new parts for your computers?" Dutch asked as the blonde, ponytailed and bespectacled electronic aficionado emerged from his room.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to get a new cooling system for my set-up on the boat. It keeps getting too warm for my liking, maybe one of those new fans…"

"Benny, you put any more fans on that damn computer of yours," Revy interrupted, rolling her eyes at Benny's techno-babble. "It's gonna take off like a helicopter and fly away."

"Well, if I had the set-up I'd really like" Benny said, popping open a beer, "It'd be liquid cooled, fully immersed with a circulation system, use mineral oil…or maybe…"

"Boooorrrreeeddddddd!" Revy groaned; cutting Benny off before his geek got into full swing. "There's gotta be something to do around here. Hey Rock, wanna go to…"

"Shhh!" Rock said, putting up his hand to tell her to be quiet.

"What is it?"

"Listen."

The crew sat in silence, holding their breath and straining their ears. Slowly, the low drone of engines grew louder.

"Yeah, it's a plane, so what?" Revy said; annoyed at Rock's interruption. "Not like that's new around here."

"No, Rock's onto something. Listen to the engines." Benny opened the office door. "It sounds a lot different than the usual drug runner planes." The Lagoon Crew filed out onto the landing, leaning against the railing to try and spot the plane. It was headed their way, but was coming from the other side of the building…should be able to see it soon…

"Man; that sure is loud." Dutch said, standing on his tip-toes to try and catch an early glimpse. "What is it…?"

_WWWWHHHHOOOAAAAMMMMMMMM!_ A massive, four-engine, twin-rudder plane roared over the office just above rooftop level; the prop wash kicking up a stiff wind. The plane buzzed over the harbor and headed off over the city. As Lagoon stared at the plane, the office phone started ringing. Dutch walked back inside and picked up the phone.

"Lagoon Company."

"Ah, Dutch." Miss Balalaika purred. The head of Hotel Moscow was always sweet with him. "Have you seen Roanapur's newest visitor?"

"Yeah I have. He just flew right over my office and nearly hit the radio antennae."

"Quite the daredevil isn't he? He's been calling over the radio for the past few minutes, trying to reach a control tower, the poor thing."

"Huh. That's strange. There aren't any major airfields around here, except for the old army base." Dutch said, rubbing his head as he puzzled over the news. "Did he say who he was, where he was from?"  
"No, and that's why I called. I was hoping Lagoon could meet him at the field when he lands…if you're not busy."

"Nah, we can head over. Anything particular?"

"Just the usual. Who he is, who he works for, what he's doing here."

"And if he's difficult?"

"Let Two-Hands handle it however she deems fitting." Miss Balalaika pulled a cigar from its case. "Just be sure not to put too many holes in the plane." SNAP! She cut the tip of the cigar. "It would be a good asset to have if things get out of hand."

"Uh-huh. We'll let you know how it goes." Dutch hung up the phone.

The airfield was a left-over from the Second World War. It had been first built as a Japanese base but was captured by the Americans near the war's end. It was later abandoned after the Korean War because it was too short for B-52 bombers and there wasn't enough space to lengthen the runway. Most of the buildings were still locked and untouched. It was rumored that the place was haunted. The concrete runway had long crumbled away and all that remained was a dirt strip. It was occasionally used by drug runner planes or visiting organization heads. Other than those occasional visitors, the jungle was slowly reclaiming the land.

The Lagoon Crew was waiting by the largest hangar in their GTO. Benny was drumming his fingers on the wheel, Dutch pretended to be asleep, Revy was twirling a Cutlass and Rock's brain, as always, was turning.

"Who do you think it could be?" Rock asked, watching the plane line up for final approach.

"Don't know…" Revy said, tucking the Cutlass back into its holster and stepping out of the car. "Don't care." She finished with her usual indifference.

"Let's just play it cool for now." Dutch said, shutting the door. "It could very well be nothing."

The crew looked on as the landing gear dropped and the pilot lined up the plane. Engines 1 and 3 were feathered back; the plane seemed to float through the air. The wheels touched once, twice and finally landed on the third contact. The dull green paint was chipped in quite a few places; the engines were running ragged and chugged heavily as the pilot taxied off the runway to Lagoon Crew. The plane came to a stop fifty yards from the car and the engines wound down.

"Ah'll be with y'all in jest ah second!" The pilot yelled out the copilot window. Revy turned to look at Rock with a raised eyebrow and a confused expression on her face.

"Did he just say 'Y'all'?" She asked Rock. "I swear he did or am I hearing things?"

"No, that's what he said." Rock was looking at the rough shape of the plane. It looked like someone had flown it through two thunderstorms; golf-ball sized hail and landed it at dirt runways the whole journey through.

"Do you think he could be an American?"

"Could be." Revy said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a Zippo. "It's been a while since I've heard a country accent. Well, not counting that cowboy Eda wasted. But there's only one place on Earth where Hick is spoken…and that's the States." The hatch on the fuselage dropped open and a pair of long legs dropped out with stained steel-toed boots at the feet.

The pilot emerged from the plane, standing tall before Lagoon. He was tall, all six-foot-four of him. He wore stained steel-toe boots and denim blue jeans with a thick leather belt to hold them up. Hanging off that belt was a black and silver handled hunting knife, an eight inch blade in a leather sheath. He was wearing a ripped Corona t-shirt; one sleeve was half-on at the shoulder and a pair of aviator sunglasses hung from his collar. He was fairly well-built but nowhere as muscle bound as Dutch. His face was full, covered in a dark, week-old beard. Darker and wildly curly hair stuck out from underneath a black baseball hat with a golden "W" on it. Rock noticed the pilot had bright brown-green eyes that shone with excitement and an honest, goofy grin plastered to his face. What Revy noticed was the grip of a large revolver sticking out of his right pants pocket.

. . .

Ah stood before them, feelin' like it was tha first day of school all over again. W'all, let's look at who Ah'm dealin' with. Ah big, bad-lookin' black dude in ah flak jacket. He looks like he's tha boss…has tha look of ah Marine. Blonde, ponytail, glasses…Hawaiian shirt…definitely ah Yuppie, techno-babbly geek. Next is ah…Chinese, no, wait American? My, that's ah large tattoo. Beretta 92FS, oh, two of 'em! Nice. Red-headed, good lookin' too. Nicer still. Ah-ha, Ah always did love me some Daisy Dukes. Then again, she looks like she'd kill ya soon as look at ya. Last, Jap'nese obviously. Dark hair that looked like it had been combed at some point…was he really wearin' slacks and ah tie in this humidity? Dude must insane. W'all, first impressions are always important. Best tah start with ah good one.

"Well howdy!" Ah said, walking toward tha group. "Y'all must be tha Welcomin' Committee?" Tha Russian lady Ah talked to on tha ray-dee-oh said there'd be four of yeh at tha airport…" Tha Red-head drew ah Beretta faster than ah snake could strike an' announced Ah was "Close enough Farmer John."

In ah reaction Ah was becomin' all-too familiar with; mah hands were up, jest level with mah shoulders.

"Okay, well, nice tah meet you too Miss…?"

"We'll ask questions for now kiddo." The black guy said. Okay, tha 'kiddo' part stung ah little, Ah was 21 after all, but Ah'll let it slide. Tha Black Dude seemed tah be ah little cooler headed than Shorty-Shorts over there. Tha man shifted his weight an' Ah could see tha gun on his hip. Oh, ah Smith and Wesson 29 in 0.44 Magnum, most powerful round in tha whole world an' could blow mah head clean off. Maybe he was ah Dirty Harry fan?

"Your gun." Redhead again. "Let's see it…reallll slow."

"All right. Ah don' know y'all…y'all don' know me, seems fair." Ah took mah right hand an' turned it so tha palm faced outward an' mah thumb faced me. Ah slowly grabbed mah gun, drawing it from mah pocket.

"Good. Now," Redhead gestured with her Beretta. "Drop it."

"Uh, rather not drop it. This was Grandpap's gun, don't wanna scratch it up. How's Ah put it down, turn 'round an' one y'all pick it up?" One part of me was not happy in the least 'bout bein' ordered 'round like this. It was eggin' me on tah jest spin tha gun 'round an' end the bullshitin', but mah common sense reasoned tha odds jest weren't in mah favor.

"Fine, Rock, get his gun." Ah put it down an' slowly turned. Tha Japanese fellah, Rock? Really? Walked over, picked it up an' handed it to tha black guy.

"Here Dutch. You know I don't like guns." Rock said. Rock? Dutch? Is this tha Monty Python Ministry of Goofy Names? Dutch was definitely tha boss though, no doubts 'bout that. He checked tha cylinder, looking over tha gun with ah practiced eye like he was appraisin' it.

"Smith and Wesson…0.357 Magnum, Model 28, six-inch barrel…Highway Patrolman." He paused for ah moment. "Well, at least you've got good taste."

"W'all thank yah sir. So…y'all got questions fer me?"

"Yeah." Dutch laid mah gun on tha hood of tha car. "Who are you, where are you from, what're you doing here…and what," Dutch pointed over mah shoulder at tha plane, "In the blazes hell is that?"

"W'all, that" Ah said, gesturin' behind me, "Is a B-24J Liberator, Consolidated Model. Ah won' lie to yah, Ah did borrow it…without askin'. Ah promised 'em Ah'd bring 'er back one day…y'all ain't tha Feds is yah?"

That got ah laugh outta tha Redhead. She even lowered her gun tah lean against tha car, her shoulders shakin' as she laughed.

"_Pfffftt_…Rock, did ya hear that? 'Y'all ain't thu Feds iz yuh?'" Alright, woman, my accent ain't that bad…

"Dutch, this bumpkin is fuckin' hilarious! We ought to take him to see Fry-Face. One sentence from him would make even her laugh!" Dutch seemed to turn it over for ah moment an' picked up mah gun.

"Okay, here's how this is gonna work. Answer my questions first. Then, you're gonna take a ride with us and meet the woman you talked with on the radio." He stopped, arms reach away, waitin'.

"Alright. Ah'm from Michigan, in tha States. Ah'm runnin' from tha Feds because of some illegal guns, turned semi's into fulls, bought ah bunch of stuff without tha paperwork an' licenses from some question'ble individuals. Friends call me Country." Even at this close, Ah still couldn't see through Dutch's sunglasses.

"Okay. Progress. That's good." Dutch spun mah gun on his hand, holding it out tah me by tha barrel. "Now, if you promise to behave, you can have this back." Ah slowly brought mah hand down an' took tha grip of tha gun, makin' sure tah keep mah shootin' finger waaaaaaaay away from tha trigger. Dutch didn' let go right away, but instead seemed tah stare right through me, like he was readin' mah mind.

"And if you can't handle that, Revy here will blow your brains out and we'll find you a nice ditch to chill out in. Understand?"

"Perfectly." His grip relaxed on tha barrel and Ah returned mah gun to mah pocket.

"Alright Benny-Boy, start the car." Rock pushed tha shotgun seat forward so Ah could sit in tha middle of tha back seat. Fer mah height, Ah would've preferred shotgun…but Ah 'pose Ah can sit with mah knees by mah ears fer a bit. Benny started tha car an' we rolled down tha runway t'wards town.

"Oh, will tha plane be alright?" Ah asked, lookin' 'round at tha four other passengers in tha car. Benny looked at me in tha mirror an' jest laughed.

"Don't worry about it. No one knows it's here and won't be near the airfield anytime soon anyway."  
"Why's that?"

"They think it's haunted." Rock said, pullin' out ah pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. "Want one?"

"Ah may blow smoke from time to time," Ah said, tryin' on ah joke fer size, "But Ah don't smoke, know what Ah'm sayin'?" Tally: Zilch from Dutch, ah smile from Benny, an annoyed scowl from Revy an' ah laugh from Rock. Two-ish out of four…rough crowd.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Revy asked; starin' out her window like she was bored outta her skull.

"Well, kinda yeah."

"Do you do those often?"  
"From time tah time…"

"Well don't." She blew ah cloud of smoke out tha windah. "It makes Rock's lame ones hilarious by comparison."

"Alllll righty then." Ah looked over at Rock. "She always like this?" Ah felt ah cold barrel pressed against mah temple.

"Now what's that supposed to mean?" Revy growled in mah ear.

"Revy, go easy on him." Rock said.

"Yeah, he's new." Benny said as he changed lanes an' got back on tha paved road. We must be goin' tah town. "Ignorant to the Rules of Roanapur."

"Yeah, Ah'm ah bumpkin remember?" Tha hammer clicked off an' tha gun went back intah its holster. So far, Rock an' Benny Ah like. Dutch makes me nervous but Revy…scares me. Like more'n veg-ah-tarians.

"So tha name ah this place is Roanapur? Never heard of it."

"Never heard of it huh? You've really gone off the deep end haven't you?" Rock asked.

"Reckon so. Wait, wha's that?" We were approaching an old an' rusted bridge. From tha crossbar over tha road hung not ah welcome sign, not ah city name, but ah collection of nooses. Well, ain't that neighborly?

"Were those nooses?" Ah asked, looking out tha back windah tah make sure Ah wasn't seein' anythin'.

"Yep." Rock said, crackin' ah knowing smile. "Welcome to Roanapur: Sin City of the South China Sea."

. . .


	2. Chapter 2

I forgot to cover a few things in the first chapter so...ahem:

I do not own any characters or material from Black Lagoon. They are all property of their respective owners.

All events and persons described in these writings are fictional. Any resemblance to real persons or events is pure coincidence.

Whew. Now that's out of the way. This is my first fan-fiction...ever. It is also the first time I have written anything longer than ten pages that wasn't a paper for class. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it so far.

Oh, one more thing: I have based Country's lingo/accent off my own jargon so if it's hard to follow, I apologize. For now I'm going to keep writing his accent as is. If it seems that too many are having trouble, I will change it so let me know.

* * *

"So he calls himself Country does he?" Balalaika said, looking over the mess of papers on her desk.

"That's what he said and that's what I was thinking of calling him anyway." Dutch said. "You know how I am with names."

"So what did you find out?"  
"He's from Michigan, one of the States. He did some illegal weapon stuff, turning semi-autos into full-auto, bought a bunch of stuff without the licenses from people like us and had a run-in with local cops that got way outta hand. He stole that plane from a local airfield and flew it here."

"Hmmm…intriguing. I'd like to meet him." Balalaika pressed a button on her desk. "Sergeant, send them in please."

The office door opened and Boris walked in with Country and the rest of Lagoon.

"So, then tha Priest says: Don' start that with me Timmy, yer in mah closet now!" Country said as he finished the joke with an easy smile on his face. Boris threw back his head and laughed. "Ah, that's a good one фермер!" (Russian, Farmer) "Capitan!" Boris remembered himself and snapped to attention.

"That'll be all Sergeant. Dismissed." Balalaika shuffled some papers, her cigar clamped between her teeth. She settled back in her chair and took a long look at Country.

"He looks a little like you Rock, when you first arrived here." Balalaika dropped ash and took another pull.

"How so Miss Balalaika?"

"He looks like he's not quite sure what he's doing here, like he got off the train at the wrong station."

"Ah 'spose yah could put it that way ma'am." Country said, running his fingers nervously through his fluffball of curly hair while the other hand tightly grasped his baseball hat.

"Ah did leave home, not willin'lly ah course. Ah haven' quite figgered where mah new home is gonna be quite yet."

"So why did you have to leave? Dutch mentioned you said it was because of illegal weapons…what on Earth would a young man like you be doing that for?"

"It's…not important." The room grew quiet. The only sound was the crackle of Balalaika's cigar as she took a hard pull.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Like Ah said, it's…not important. It was sumthin' that's behind me now an' can't be helped." Country said, not even batting an eyelash as he and Balalaika locked eyes. The seconds ticked by.

"May I see your gun?" Balalaika broke silence.

"It's mah turn tah beg pardon ma'am."

"Your gun…Country. I wish to see it. You can tell a lot about someone by their gun you know."

"W'all… alright." Country said, taking a reversed grip on the gun like he did at the airfield. "Yah did ask nicely." He held it by the frame and cylinder out to Balalaika with the barrel pointed back at him.

"An Ah could never tell ah pretty lady like yerself no." He added, another grin spreading across his face.

"Hmm…flattery is an art Mr. Country." Balalaika said flatly, but with a small smile. She took the gun and turned it around in her hands.

"Another Smith and Wesson. Dutch, yours has a brother now." She examined the frame and saw "Highway Patrolman" etched in the metal.

"Highway Patrolman?"

"Police who patrol tha highways, they special ordered these guns back in tha '70's. This one was issued to tha Pennsylvania State Patrol." Country explained.

"I see. Oh, a 0.357 Magnum…hollow-point. Not a common round in this town." Balalaika opened the cylinder and withdrew one of the rounds, looking at the empty crown of the bullet.

"You've an eye for firearms ma'am. Three-fiddy-sevin' is more poplar back home, that's true. But it beats tha hell outta 9 by 19 in stoppin' power."

"Does it really?" Balalaika said, swinging the cylinder closed and leveling the gun at Country. "I wonder…" She mused; smoke lazily wafting from her cigar. Country looked her in the eye and said he'd 'bet his life on it.'

Meanwhile, Rock was having a small panic attack. He was remembering the last time Balalaika had taken someone's gun off of them and inspected it so. He nudged Revy, who was watching with bored curiosity.

"What?"

"Remember what I told you about the Kosa Clan when we were in Japan?" He whispered, looking between the Russian and the Redneck, neither had moved.

"And what happened when she took their guns off of them?" Revy smiled evilly at the thought.

"Yeah, I do. This'll be interesting to see what she does." Country cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"Ah'd 'preciate it if you'd point that somewhere else ma'am. Ah'd prefer not gittin' shot with mah own gun." Balalaika chuckled and let the gun swing around her trigger finger so the grip was pointing at the ceiling and faced Country.

"You remind me, again, a little of Rock. He has moments where he's not afraid to speak his mind, even when it's a risk to his health." Balalaika glanced over at Dutch and the rest of Lagoon. She was smiling pleasantly.

"Well he passes." She looked back at Country. "Here's your gun. It's a good one and I say, fits you very well."

. . .

Ah took mah gun back an' put it back intah mah pocket. This Miss Balalaika was ah real cool operator. Never thought in all mah days Ah'd meet up with ah Russian Mafia Boss, let alone ah female one. Rock'd said her group was called Hotel Moscow. She was tall fer sure, blonde hair to her waist an' ice cold blue eyes. It looked like she'd been burned real bad in ah few spots, Ah could see where Revy'd gotten "Fry-Face". Still, even with tha burns, Miss Balalaika was a good lookin' woman. Ain't Ah off to ah great start? Tha first two women Ah meet in this city are gorgeous but are both downright terrifyin' an' have been fixin' tah kill me. What ah day this has been.

"So, do you have plans Mr. Country?" Balalaika asked, tha frost gone from her voice.

"Well, Ah been meanin' tah git somethin' tah eat."

"Siiiggghhh…..мужлан" Balalaika muttered. (Russian, Bumpkin) "I mean, residence, work, travel?"

"Oh! Mah apologies. Ah git ah bit sidetracked when Ah'm hungry. Tha coal gets low, so tha fire upstairs goes down ah little bit, know what Ah mean? Anyway, Rock 'splained Lagoon to me on tha drive over an' Dutch mentioned somethin' about an interview of sorts…was this it?" Ah said, lookin' 'round at everyone, feelin' ah tad uneasy. It was like everyone knew some joke Ah wasn't privy to. Dutch looked like he was tryin' not tah laugh, what's so funny?

"We've been looking to expand our operations for a while now. You and that plane of yours are a perfect opportunity to do so. How 'bout it Country?" Dutch asked.

"That is, if you don't mind the crazy coworkers." Benny added, looking sideways at Revy.

"Or gettin' yer hands a little dirty." Revy said, barin' her teeth in ah skull-like grin. My, what sharp teeth you have.

"Or occasionally breaking the rules to put food on the table." Rock concluded. Ah took ah moment tah collect mah thoughts. It seemed tah me there was only one real option.

"Walp, tha statute ah limitations don' run out at home fer another fiddy years or so. Besides, ya'll seem like ah decent enough bunch; least fer this city anyhow. An' Rock, Ah break tha rules every chance Ah git, it's in mah nature." Ah walked over tah Dutch an' stuck out mah hand tah shake his.

"Well sir, looks as though yah got yerself ah pilot. Where do Ah sign?"

. . .

"Tha Yeller Flag? Awful seedy lookin' joint ain't it?" Ah asked as we pulled up outside tha bar.

"Yeah, this place has been trashed, shot-up and burned down more times than any other place in town." Revy said, pushing open tha front doors. "And that's why I love it here!"

"I think it's on rebuild fourteen or fifteen." Benny said as we sat down at tha bar. "It's kinda like a Hydra. You cut off a head an' another grows in its place but you can never kill it." Ah took ah look 'round at some of tha other patrons, tha pockmarks in tha wall, tha steel bars on tha windows…Ah tapped tha bar with mah boot…yep. Bullet-proofed. 'Ah'd wager there's ah scattergun back there too.' Ah thought as Ah looked at tha bartender. Medium height, slim build, dark hair with flecks of grey, apron, pencil thin mustache…one unique lookin' character.

"Bao!" Revy yelled down tha bar, gettin' ah glare from tha bartender. "Get your lazy ass over here, we're thirsty!"

"Oh damn Revy, not you again." Bao groaned, starin' at Revy with seethin' fury. "Yer a real piece of work, bad luck, a curse if ya ask me. If you trash the place again, I'll cram you in an empty 151 barrel and toss it into the harbor!" Bao stopped an' looked at me with his eyes narrowed at tha unfamiliar face.

"Well, well…well. What do we have here?" He said, leanin' closer tah git ah better look. "You must be the new kid, the pilot." Bao looked at Rock an' said:

"Well congrats Rock. They found someone dumber and more naïve lookin' than you. You're no longer the new guy; you've been promoted tah vetran."

"And it only took a year and a half Bao?" Rock asked. "I thought I'd climb the corporate ladder a little faster than that."

"Well that's what happens when you spend all of your time with Revy." Benny said from his end of our row.

"You wanna die Benny?!"

"No, not really." Was tha subdued reply. Bao, or anyone else, didn' seem tha least bit phased by Revy's outburst. Tha woman must have issues somethin' bad.

"Well kiddo." Bao said, lookin' back to me. Why do Ah even bother with facial hair, Ah don' know, if everyone is gonna keep callin' me kiddo. "I wish you the best of luck. Yer gonna need it, hanging around these misfits. So I'll offer you one free drink before you go off to get shot, roasted, drowned at sea or chopped up by Sawyer the Cleaner. What'll it be?"

"Got any Mountain Dew?" Ah vein ticked in Bao's forehead.

"This is a bar you moron, you order alcohol. Do you know what happened the last time someone came in here and started ordering somethin' non-alcoholic?" Bao looked at Benny, Dutch, Revy and Rock, all who turned ah shade paler at tha specter of some memory that Ah wasn't privy to. Some context 'round this place would do wonders fer me. Ah did have tah laugh at Bao though, must not be up on his country slang.

"Naw Bao. Ah meant White Lightnin'."

"Come again?"

"Mooshine you ignoramus! Don't y'all know nothin' 'bout finer homemade liquors? Mountain Water, Shine, Corn-Licker!"

"Right, right, right, I got it." Bao turned an' grabbed ah bottle. "There's a local group here that makes it." He poured out ah glass that was clear as ah child's conscience. "It's gotta bit of a kick to it."

"I wanna watch this." Revy said; turnin' tah watch me drink. "Let's see if Bumpkin can hold his liquor like a real man." Well if that's tha way you wanna be…Ah tossed back tha drink in one go…but instantly knew not all was right in tha world. Ah slammed tha glass back down on tha bar hard enough tah crack it. Ah glared at Bao from under mah hat, thoroughly ticked off.

"Now Mr. Bao. Ah know Ah'm new 'round here an' don't want tah be causin' ah ruckus…" Ah raised my head tah lock eyes. "But Ah don' recall askin'fer ethanol."

All sets of eyes that weren't already on me swiveled over at tha claim. Bao was livid, barin' his teeth an' other vein pulsed in his temple.

"An' it's piss-poor ethanol at that."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" Bao yelled, absolutely livid. "I wouldn't serve anything of the sort in this bar! Besides, the guy has been brewing for years!"

"Anybody 'round here up and gone blind lately?" Ah asked quietly.

"What?"

"Anyone been goin' blind fer no 'pparent reason? People who was healthy otherwise?"

"Yeah a few…now that I think about it." Benny said. "I heard Watsup talking about it one day; he said it might be side-effects of some new drug."

"Well it ain't no drug." Ah plucked another glass from tha stack an' poured another shot an' plunked tha bottle down. "Now, if someone'd be kind nuff to lend me ah lighter…" Dutch held his out tah me an' told me he hoped Ah knew what Ah was doing.

"Thank you kindly. Now, Mister Bao. If this is what you say it is; tha flame'll be ah bright blue. That; an' Ah'll eat mah hat in apology." Ah flicked tha lighter open an' lit up. "However, as you can see…"

Ah touched tha flame to tha clear liquid. It instantly burst into flame, bright red flame that danced six inches tall with black, foul-smellin' smoke. Bao stared at tha flames, looking like he'd jest swallower'ed ah lemon. Ah smiled at him, wasn' really his fault. He'd probably sampled tha goods tah make sure it was good an' they jest gave him ah dummy sample, happens all tha time. They kept one good barrel, prob'bly from someone else, or ah mix of other liquor an' tha rest was this junk.

"Lead burns red an' makes yeh dead." Ah capped tha glass with another, smothering tha flames. "It ain't yer fault Bao, it's whoever tha brewer is. Ah'd wager he's been usin' old radiator coils fer condensers, it gits lead in yer distillate."

"How do you know that Country?" Rock asked, inspecting tha bottle label.

"Ah may have dabbled in moonshinin' ah time er two. It's real simple chemistry. Now, who'd be yer brewers?" Bao indicated to tha approachin' footsteps behind me.

"I be! You got problem?" Ah turned tah see ah local lookin' fella. Dark hair, gold chain an' rings, button-up shirt that only was buttoned to tha third one down, suit-jacket…he must be ah small-pond big fish.

"So yer tha fella who's been peddli' poison as shine?"

"Hey, how about you let this one go?" Dutch asked; turnin' so tha gangster could see his gun. "Country is new here, hasn't learned the ropes yet."

"No! This matter of pride!" Tha man screeched, stampin' his foot. A think Ah'll call him 'Chains'. Chains pointed his finger at me, tha tip shakin' with rage. "You fight me now Country!" Ah looked at Benny…Dutch…Rock…Revy…no initial signs of guidance.

"Give us a show Country." Revy said, grinnin' as she swiveled on her stool. "I wanna see what you can do."

Ah stood up, not really wantin' tah start off relations with tha locals on tha wrong foot. But then again, this Chains fella was really startin' tah piss me off. And, as ah connoisseur of finer home-made distillates, in all good conscience, Ah really couldn' let it go, could Ah?

"Allow me two indulgences sir." Ah said, fiddlin' with some change in mah pocket.

"What you want? Speak fast!" Touchy little bastard ain't ya?

"First," Ah walked over to tha music box next to tha wall. "Mood music." Ah dropped ah quarter, tha machine whirred, an album settled on tha turntable, tha needle swung over and tha melodious sound of Rednex filled tha bar:

_If it hadn't been for Cotton Eye Joe, I'd been married long time ago, where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from Cotton Eye Joe?_

As tha music blared, Ah flipped ah fifty cent piece on mah thumb ah few times as Ah walked back.

"Okay sir, Ah like to do ah little trick 'fore these things. It's jest tah see if luck's really got anythin' tah do with it." Ah stopped 'fore Chains, grinnin' like ah damned fool. "Ah'm jest gonna flip Mr. Kennedy here an' yer gonna call it. If yah win tha toss, might mean yer fated tah win tha fight, jest an indulgence, fair?"

"Fine. It no mattah. I do this then kick your ass, fucker!" No need tah be callin' names. It takes me forever tah git properly mad, Ah think Ah was at Level Two, Ticked Off.

"Alrighty, call it."

"Heads."

Ah flipped tha coin off mah thumb an' started to move…

. . .

Rock was sitting in his usual spot to Revy's right as he watched Country go through Roanapur's Initiation Process. Rock remembered his on the deck of a cargo ship a year and a half ago when Dutch had punched him in the nose and Revy took him hostage. 'What's the deal with the coin toss?' Rock wondered as Country explained his indulgence to Chains.

The fifty cent piece went up, spinning through the air, shimmering as it reflected off the dim lights. Chain's eyes were drawn to the coin, upwards toward the ceiling. As the coin began to fall, Rock gasped as he realized what Country was doing. Country's fist caught the coin and punched Chains full in the face.

_Ka-Whack!_ Chains flew backwards, crashing into a table and stacked chairs, his bell clearly rung. Country walked over, looking fairly pleased with himself. He bent over and plucked the coin from Chain's forehead. The punch had left a deep impression on the forehead, between and just above the eyebrows.

"Well Ah'll be dipped." Country chuckled, dropping the coin back into his pocket and leaving his hand in it. Rock noticed Country was fiddling with something else in his pocket.

"Look at that, heads after all." The imprint on Chain's skin was a perfect pattern of President Kennedy. Chains groaned, sitting up slowly in the pile of broken furniture. He rubbed his face and his eyes, flamed with rage when he felt the imprint on his skin.

"Don't stand shit-heads!" He bellowed at his men. "GET HIM!" As Chain's men moved in, Country reached back and grabbed Rock and Revy's glasses of 151.

"Pardon me Mizz Revy, Rock. But Ah need ah quick pick-me up." Country slammed both doubles, getting raised eyebrows from the rest of Lagoon. "Ah can't git properly mean 'nough without some help, Ah'm too nice otherwise." Country tossed Rock another quarter. "Pick me out ah tune good buddy." He said with a smile. As soon as Rock dropped the quarter, Chain's men attacked. To the tune of Waylon Jennings "Ain't livin' long like this", Country, good'n liquored up, swung first.

Country hit the first and biggest guy in the throat, using his long arms and height to keep distance between him and the henchman. There was a loud and sickening _CRUNCH!_ Then the air in the man's lungs burst out in a loud whoosh and he crumpled to the floor.

Country's right hand was extended out but his left was back behind him. First was to follow through on his punch, but also to grab his barstool. Country swung the stool, connecting it with the second man's head. Most of the stool hit the man in the cheek and a burst of spit, blood and two broken molars flew out of his mouth and down he went. The third got a swing in on Country, a blow to his lower left floating ribs. Country grunted with the blow but didn't falter. The stool was shattered, so Country dropped the leg of the stool and rushed the man. He grabbed the man by the belt and rammed his shoulder into the man's navel. Country kept pushing and lifted up on the man's belt until his feet were off the floor. Country then ran with the man through the bar and slammed him into a ceiling support column. The force of Country's impact on the man's stomach resulted in a loud Oooomphh! And as Country let the man fall, his stomach emptied itself all over the floor.

As Country started on the next man, the rest of Lagoon looked on nonchalantly…well, except Rock of course.

"Do you think we should help him?" Rock asked Revy who was having another cigarette. "I mean, it is his first day and everything. I'm worried he's in over his head." As Rock said that, Country cracked another guy in the nose, shattering the bone in a burst of blood. In the dim light, Rock saw something glint on Country's knuckles.

"Nah…_Fooooooo_…" Revy said, blowing smoke and turning to Rock as Country tossed another man into the wall face-first. "He's doin' alright. Unless you think you can do better." She stuck her tongue out at him, teasing Rock even more. It was one of her favorite pastimes. "I know you're not a _real_ fighter or anything, probably afraid to get your nice pressed shirt all wrinkly…"

"Oh yeah?!" Rock stood up, ripping his tie off. Revy was always doing this to him, egging him on, questioning his masculinity; did she ever view him as anything more than a putz to be toyed with?! 'Well I'll show her!' At that moment Country yelled across the bar.

"ROCK! How's about helpin' ah fella out?!" One man was hanging onto Country's right leg for dear life and other had ahold of his left arm. Rock downed a shot of 151 and took a running leap at the man on Country's arm. Rock tackled him and the group went down in a tangled, snarling and punching heap.

At the same time, Balalaika and the Chinese Triad Boss, Chang, walked in with their guards for a drink.

"Oh my." Balalaika sighed as Country swung a chair across a man's back and Rock knocked down another with a right hook to the ear.

"So this is the…Country…you were telling me about." Chang said, taking off his sunglasses for a better look. There was a loud crash as a table was thrown and then a louder "Hooooooo-eeeeeeeee!" from a punch-drunk Country as he tackled another henchman, smashing into yet another table.

"Yes it is." Balalaika made her way to the bar next to Lagoon. "And he's fighting at the Yellow Flag on his first day." Chang laughed at that as he sat down to watch. "Then I'd say he's fitting right in here, wouldn't you agree Two-Hands?" Chang asked.

"Hell yeah. He even got Rock in on the action."

"Well that's a first." Chang observed as Rock and Country teamed up to throw one of the remaining henchmen through the front window.

"He's doin' well too…Rock that is." Revy said, crossing her legs as she watched the fight with renewed interest, her foot bobbing up and down in her excitement.

"All I wanna know is who's payin' for the mess they're making?!" Bao grumbled behind the bar.

"I think Country is by saving you from serving that poison." Benny said, sipping his beer. "If anything, Country and Rock are doing you a favor." Bao just grumbled to himself under his breath. "Look at all the extra revenue they're attracting." Benny added, nodding towards the crowd that was forcing its way through the doors. They had originally gathered to see what the newest member of Lagoon Company could do. But when word got around that none other than mild-mannered Rock was in the fight too, well, everyone just HAD to go see for themselves. Bao looked around the bar, seeing dollar signs on every face and relaxed for a moment. The feeling passed when Country leapt over the bar, seized a bottle of aged Scotch and smashed it over a pursuing henchman's head, resulting in a shower of liquor, broken glass and a passed out man slumped over the bar. With another yell, Country leapt back over the bar to help Rock with a man holding a chair over his head.

By now Chains had recovered enough to stop seeing things in triple and staggered to his feet. Livid at being caught off guard by such a simple trick, he pulled his Saturday Night Special from his coat and leveled it at Country; who was lining up for another punch. Before he could fire a round, a 9mm smashed into the cylinder and knocked the gun from his hands.

"I don't think so cocksucker." Revy growled; one Cutlass aimed at Chains and the other at high ready. The entire fight screeched to a stop, Country holding a man by the collar and Rock with both fists at ready was wide-eyed at the suddenness of the shot.

"Mr. Lin, I think that'll be enough." Balalaika hissed; her Stechkin trained on Lin/Chains. "The boy owes Dutch and I work and I won't have you killing off my free labor."

"That and it seems Country was decent enough to fight without his gun," Chang added, Beretta 76's at ready. "Even though he could've done so quite easily, outnumbered as he was. Perhaps you should just cut your losses?" Staring down the barrels of five guns with the potential for seven or more, Mr. Lin did agree to disagree. He and his men, those who could still walk, trooped out, carrying their wounded. Before he got into his car, Mr. Lin sneered at Country, flipped him the bird and spat in the parking lot. Then, Mr. Lin got into his car and sped away with President Kennedy still on his forehead.

. . .

"Whhheeeeewww…." Country whistled, throwing himself onto another barstool and spinning around a few times before stopping by planting his feet firmly on the floor in front of the rest of Lagoon, Chang and Balalaika. "Ah tell y'all what! This place is funner than ah barrel full-ah monkeys! Do we get to come here often?"

"Oh God Revy, he's just as bad as you." Dutch groaned. Country looked fairly well off despite his fight. His left eye was swelling a bit and his left knuckles were a tad raw. His right hand he was hiding in his pocket. He picked up his hat, he'd lost it on the floor and his curly hair stuck up like he'd grabbed the terminals of a car battery. Rock had taken a few more hits, particularly a bad one to the nose. Both of his eyes were black and the bridge of his nose was crooked.

"Ah fuck-all my nose hurts." Rock said as he sat down next to Revy.

"Awww, did you get your widdle nose bwoken?" Revy mocked him, smiling sadistically.

"Yes, Revy, and I'm fine, thanks for asking." Rock said, pointing at his face. "Now can you stop laughing long enough to fix this?" Revy reached out, grasped his nose and with a SNAP! Put the bone back in place, causing Rock to groan through gritted teeth.

"Better now Rocky?"

"Surprisingly…yes." Rock was holding his face with his eyes closed, trying to not pass out. "Bao…drink please." Rock took a drink, still holding his nose. "So how'd I do Revy?"

"You did pretty good for your first time Rocky Baby. Maybe I'll get you some cotton candy on the way home as a present." She said as Balalaika and Chang got up to leave. They were headed for a meeting with the other bosses and the exploits of Country and Rock were sure to be a hot topic.

"Well Country, it seems you've been initiated." Dutch said, holding out his hand to shake. "Welcome to the club." Country smiled another big grin and took Dutch's hand.

"Hey, your right hand's knuckles aren't all fucked up." Dutch observed, not letting go of Country's hand. "What's up with that?"

"It's these." Revy said, holding up the set of brass knuckles she'd lifted from Country's pocket. She tossed them back to Country who slipped them back into his pocket.

"Brass knuckles…" Dutch said, smiling at Country. "Good idea. You're full of surprises."

"Ah know some folks don' like 'em. Say fightin' with 'em is dirty. Ah don' give ah shit 'bout fightin' fair. If Ah'm fightin', Ah'm fightin' tah win. Even if it means bitin', scratchin', clawin', gougin' or…brass knuckles."

"It doesn't matter anyway, you and Rock whupped ass and that's all that matters to me." Revy said, getting off her stool. "There's no such thing as second place, only the first loser in this town."

. . .

"Well gang." Dutch said, lookin' at his watch. "It's getting late, time to call it a day. We've got work tomorrow."

"Work?" Ah asked, followin' everyone out. "Doin' what?"

"The usual." Benny said, unlockin' tha car. "Go out, drop something off, pick something up. Try not to get shot, blown up or drowned in the process." He turned tah look at me directly. "Unless you're having second thoughts?"  
"Well…" Ah said, squeezed yet again 'tween Rock an' Revy, mah knees up 'round mah ears. "Ah think it'd be ah little late fer me tah up an' leave now." Ah wiggled an' wriggled in mah seat, tryin' tah get comfortable.

"Hey Sasquatch," Revy said to mah left "Ya mind not takin' up so much space?"

"Hey Rock, does she have an 'Off Button' or ah 'Mute' button?" Ah asked.

"You've got an awful lotta nerve yah damn Hillbilly!" Revy jabbed her finger intah mah chest. Ow, that hurt. "You showed you can fight and may prove useful yet but that doesn't mean I have to like you. Just remember, it's gonna be really hard to fly that plane with no legs after I've kneecapped you!" She twisted sideways in her seat, trying tah shove me sideways with her hip an' hands.

"Why don't you just go sit on Rock's lap?" Ah naively (an' in hindsight, very stupidly) joked. Rock instantly turned redder than ah stop sign an' even ah tinge of color flushed across Revy's nose. "It'd sure save a lotta space and Ah don' think Rock'd mind none…" Ah didn't get tah finish mah sentence 'cause Revy hauled back an' punched me in tha mouth.

"So nice of ya to let me stay." Ah mumbled, mah lower lip swollen an' cracked from where Revy'd punched me. Ah'd passed out, tha hit took me by surprise an' tha girl sure had an arm on her. Ah collapsed on tha couch in Rock's livin' room. Standin' was getting' difficult an' mah head was sore from tha day. "It's awful decent of ya, even if yer woman punched me in tha noggin'."

. . .

Rock stiffened at Country's last sentence. It surely must be his grogginess talking.

"What'd you say about Revy?" Rock said as he pulled two bags of ice from the freezer he kept for these occasions.

"She's yer woman ain't she?" Country said, unlacing his boots.

"Ha! As if, she'd probably castrate us both with a rusty spoon if she heard you say that. Certainly would if I tried anything." Rock tossed Country the pack of ice who gladly slapped it over his face. Rock gingerly put the other pack on his nose and groaned as the cold seeped into his aching face.

"Welf, I shea de marf sheece looksh at foo." Country mumbled from under his ice pack.

"What?" Rock laughed at Country's muffled voice.

"Ah said," Country lifted the ice pack off his jaw, "Ah've seen tha way she looks at you, when you ain't lookin' at her that is."

"No she doesn't, we're just friends, coworkers."

"Ah dunno Buckaroo, she looks at you tha way Ah look at this one female fiddler Ah know."

"Huh…you don't say…" Rock said, trailing off. Deep in his gut Rock felt, for just a moment but felt none-the-less, a flutter. Rock had seen traces of something in Revy. The fear and sadness when she'd nearly killed him at the market. There was the look of jealousy when he was talking to Yukio Washimine; actual happiness for a brief and fleeting moment when she was playing Cowboys with the kids in the park by his parent's house. Those glimpses of something else besides anger, rage and borderline insanity and now this information from Country…maybe there was hope for her after all?

"Ah seen you lookin' at her too." Country interrupted Rock's train of thought "Ah can see why. She seems like she'd be hard tah deal with some days, but there's somethin' there…that an' she ain't hard tah look at neither." Country looked over at Rock with a Cheshire Cat smirk. "Can' go wrong with them Daisy Dukes can ya Rock? Tha girl gotta good wiggle to her, know what Ah mean?" Country said, wiggling his eyebrows. An image bloomed in Rock's head of Revy on the docks, her long tan legs up to her shorts where the curve of her ass peeked out from under the fringed denim…

"Haha! Ya outta see yer face." Country said, swinging his legs onto the couch so his feet hung over the armrest. "It's redder than ah stoplight and your eyes look like yer brain is out tah lunch." Country yawned, a cavernous hole opened followed by a thunderous roar of a yawn.

"You really think so?"

"Ah know so. If anythin', both y'all argue like ah married couple. If she didn' care 'bout yah, she'd never say anythin' to yah." The thought had never occurred to Rock and he began thinking about what Country had said.

"Any-how…" Country pulled his hat down over his face. "Ah'm outta gas and goin' tah sleep. See yah in the mornin', first day of work! Gonna be ah big day!"

"Right…good night Country." Rock switched off the light and went to his room. He collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling, rolling Country's words over and over again in his mind. Did Revy really, maybe, possibly have a thing for him? She'd gotten much warmer to him over the past year and a half, especially after Japan. They were pretty much inseparable; she went everywhere he did, despite her complaining. "Best not to worry about it." Rock thought, his eyelids growing heavy. "Country's right, gonna be a big day tomorrow."

. . .


	3. Chapter 3

"Country." A noise. Probably nuthin'.

"Hey, Country." That noise again.

"Wake up Country, time to go." Now the noise was shakin' me, guess I'll git up. Rock was already dressed, shaved, fresh pressed shirt, slacks and tie…the man wasn't human.

"Yaaaawwwwwnnnnnn…." Crick!-Crack! I need to stop sleepin' on couches, gets my back outta wack.

"So what're we doin' tah-day?" I asked as we waited on tha front step. Rock was havin' a mornin' cigarette, guess it started his day off right.

"An exchange for a cartel out of Mexico."

"Mexico? Ain't they ah little outta their territory?"

"You'd think so, but drugs are worldwide. Some of the best stuff in the world, as far as marijuana and cocaine goes, comes from Latin America and Mexico."

"Yah got that right. Ah knew more came outta there than tequila an' tramp stamp tattoos on college girls." I looked 'round the neighborhood as we waited. Fer bein' a "Sin City" it didn' seem too bad, pretty normal on the surface. I'd never did care for livin' in the city personally, but so far this'n was alright. I mean sure, there were shootin's, muggin's, hookers, drugs an' rackets left an' right…but what big town back home was any different? Vegas has all that, same as Motor City, Windy City, Philly, NYC, Dirty City, Miami, LA…I'm ramblin' here ain't I? Point is, Roanapur at least was pretty laid back and the people were as relaxed as they could be anyhow. I couldn' really see what Rock was drivin' at, how terrible an' awful this place was. But, I figured that things were liable to change since it was only my secon' day.

"Here's Benny." Rock said, walkin' to the curb.

"Mornin' there Miami Vice." I said, droppin' into the backseat, which was mercifully empty, for a while at least. Man it felt good to stretch out.

"Miami Vice?" Benny asked, lookin' confused in the mirror.

"Well sure. Yah got yer button-up Hawaiian, sunglasses, ponytail, drivin' ah cool car, livin' large in tha…criminal…uh…underworld or whatever Rock calls it…yah look like Miami Vice."

"Makes sense when you put it that way Country." Benny chuckled. "I wonder what Jane would think about that?"

"Whoa now, hold tha phone. Who's this Jane Ah ain't met an' does she have any cute friends?" Maybe this town ain't gonna be so bad after all.

"She's my girlfriend, you could say."

"You could say?"  
"That's the best way to describe what we've got going."

"Y'all fuckin' then 'er not?" Benny nearly swallered his cigarette in surprise. He turned to face me.

"Just what kinda question is that?!"

"A real simple one. I'm jest tryin' to figger out all tha social circles, git to know everyone an' who's got dibs on who. Rock here is no fun," I kicked the back of his seat; he was starin' out the window like some ditz. "Soon's Ah ask him anythin', he clams up an' won't say nothin'."

"That's because he's daydreaming, aren't you? Rock?...Rock!" Benny noticed Space Cadet Rock was driftin' off too.

"Huh?" Man alive Rock, you sure do pick annoyin' times to spazz out.

"You alive over there?" Benny asked. The car had come to a stop outside a well-weathered apartment building. "It's time for the scariest time of the day."

"Yeah…I suppose it is, isn't it?" Rock got out of the car an' looked through my window. "Country, you have your gun on you right?"

"Course Ah do! Never leave home without it…why?"

"I gotta go wake Revy up."

. . .

Rock groaned internally as he slammed the car door shut. Revy could be a terror during the day in one of her fits of Whitman Fever but waking her up could be an absolute nightmare even when she was NOT hung-over.

"If I'm not out in thirty minutes, come in gun blazing and save me." Rock said.

"Will do buckaroo." Country said, propping his legs up on the windowsill, letting his feet hang out of the car. "And if ya need help real bad, jest holler loud as ya can." Country pulled his hat over his eyes, folded his arms across his chest and went back to sleep.

Rock knocked, once, then again. As usual there wasn't an answer. He leaned on the door and it swung open, unlocked.

"She's going to have a break-in one of these days." Rock though. Looking around, Rock saw the place was a disaster, again, as usual. Clothes were piled haphazardly and balled up in piles on the floor. The coffee table was covered with empty takeout and pizza boxes. The kitchen table was half liquor bottles and half gun-smith bench. An assault rifle Rock didn't recognize was in a dozen pieces, some soaking in what smelled strongly of kerosene.

"Well, there's no point in trying to clean anything up today." Rock said, surveying the catastrophe. "We're going to be late already as is."

Rock checked Revy's room, she was there all right. A shock of reddish-plum colored hair stuck out from under the sheet, pulled up so her legs were sticking out. As Rock stood looking at her, he recalled what Country had said the night before. She sure did look peaceful sleeping. It was probably the only time she ever relaxed at all. Rock slowly walked over to her bed and gingerly sat down. She stirred, but didn't wake. Her hair had fallen over her face, blocking it from view. As carefully as he could, Rock felt like an EOD tech disarming a bomb, he brushed it away.

For a moment, she lay still, lips just parted, no expression of anger, rage, fear…just peaceful as the ocean on a calm day. Rock felt that same flutter again, a bit stronger for the first time in a while. Maybe she did look at him the way he did at her? Or was Country full of it? Well, there would be time to find out, it was time to go. Rock slowly shook Revy, trying to wake her as gently as possible. She yawned, stretching her arms and arching her back, then opened her eyes.

"Good morning Revy." Rock whispered with a smile.

"Mrrrrppphh…" Revy mumbled, rubbing her face and eyes. "Good morning to you too I guess. I'm hitting snooze for another hour." Revy lightly bopped Rock on the head, seized her covers and rolled over. Rock laughed a little and at the same time, wondered a bit too. Revy almost never touched him unless it was to hit him.

"No, come on." Rock leaned over her to reach the window blinds. "We don't want to be late." While Rock fiddled with the blinds, his tie dropped onto Revy's face and his chest rubbed on her shoulder and back. Now that the blinds were open, Revy decided she couldn't sleep any longer with all the extra light. She figured she may as well get up and start the day.

. . .

Now, Revy would never admit willingly…but she loved it when Rock woke her up each morning. Well, love wouldn't be right for Revy…but she certainly didn't want it to stop anytime soon. She'd pretend to be asleep; she knew he'd sit with her for a while. He was probably thinking about some mushy bullshit about how she looked when she was asleep. She didn't mind though. Revy could feel his chest on her back when he'd open the blinds and his smell, slightly smoky and sweet, from his tie. But, she'd never willingly admit any of that wishy-washy crap…at least that's what she kept telling herself.

. . .

"Hey! Bumpkin, wake up!" Revy shoved my feet back into the car. I'd been havin' ah wonderful dream too, my favorite female fiddler was in it. What? I'm allowed tah dream ain't I?

"Remind me why you're here again?" Revy grumbled, givin' me her best Evil Eye. "Who did you piss off or fuck over? Lemme guess, you started fuckin' yer cuzzin an' thuh clan booted yeh out?"

"Awful touchy in tha mornin' ain't we?" I said, trying to git comfortable. "Anyhow, ain't this one of them towns where you ain't 'sposed to be askin' questions you don't want tah know the answers to?"

"He stole $10,000 worth of fuel from an airfield in Russia." Benny blabbed. "Dutch and Balalaika were talking about it when you got here. Balalaika wanted to take what you owe her out of your ass, but Dutch was able to talk her down." Rock an' Revy both looked at me, their eyeballs about to pop outta their heads.

"You…stole fuel…" Revy started, seemin' to have trouble formin' the words, "From a Hotel Moscow run airfield?"

"Well, if yah call a pancaked strip of snow an' ice an airfield. I 'bout froze, bein' in jest mah shirt here. I wandered 'round ah bit. No one seemed to be home an' I figgered they wouldn't miss ah few hundred gallons or so. So, I filled 'er up an' took off. Only then did I git to thinkin' it was all too good to be true."

"You're either a goddamn genius or a fuckin' idiot." Revy said, still amazed I wasn't buried headfirst in a Siberian snowbank.

"How is the plane anyway?" Rock asked. How very astute of you Rock, that's an excellent question. I like him, he pays attention.

"Gonna need ah lotta work. Every three hours it flies, it needs an hour of TLC."

"So…how much work does that come out to, with your flight halfway across the globe?"

"Oh, 'bout ah week by my reckonin'. I'm sure surprised I made it over tha Arctic Circle, an' especially after runnin' into that thunderstorm."

"So let me see if I got this straight. You stole a World-War Two era bomber…flew over Canada and the Arctic…" Benny said as we pulled up at the docks. "Stole over ten grand worth of fuel from Miss Balalaika in Russia…" We got outta the car an' headed fer the nearest building. "And decided that, of all places you could have picked, the South China Sea was the best place to stop?" Benny turned to look at me, terribly confused. "Just what in the hell did you do? I don't think illegally modifying some guns adds up here." Before I could articulate an answer, Dutch delayed my story by openin' the second story door.

"Alright you misfits" He called from above us. "Time to make some money." He looked at me an' asked: "You don't get seasick do you Country?"

"Ah didn' spend nearly 20 summers on Lake Michigan fishin' fer nothin'!" I laughed. We started walking t'wards tha boat sheds. "So, somethin' about Mexican cartels, drugs or other?" I asked as Dutch unlocked the door.

"Yeah, we're supposed to be part of a relay. Their boat meets us out in the ocean and we act as middlemen. It's our bread and butter."

"Do we know anything about these guys?" Revy asked as we filed into tha boat pen. "This seems like it was an awful quick job and we've never dealt with Mexicans before. Columbians yeah, but this is new."

"Not too much. I hear talk between the Columbians that there's some competition going on, but nothing unusual." Dutch flicked on the lights an' before mah very own eyes was an honest tah-God PT-Boat, torpedoes an' everything!

"Woooo-doggy Dutch! How long have yah been hidin' this from tha world?!" I leapt onto the deck, taking in the feel of standing on such ah magnificent vessel. "What's her name?"

Dutch smiled, I could tell this was his pride an' joy, his baby.

"The Black Lagoon. Been through some of the worst stuff the South China can throw at her, and then some, but always kept on chugging."

. . .

With The Black Lagoon underway, the crew retired to their stations. Dutch and Benny were below decks to the control room and the Den of Nerd-dom, respectively. Rock and Revy were on the deck and talking about who knows, as usual. Country, after excitedly exploring every inch of the boat like a kid on Christmas, lay down on the roof of the bridge pulled his hat over his eyes, folded his arms over his chest and went back to sleep.

"He sure can nap anywhere can't he?" Rock wondered aloud, watching Country snooze.

"That's probably how he stays so fuckin' annoyingly upbeat all the time." Revy said. "He's a bigger optimist than you Rock and that's saying something. He thinks every day is some new adventure."

"Sure seems like it." Rock paused, his brain consumed in thought. Revy looked over at Rock and smiled, she knew that look. Rock was observant, detail-oriented and not much slipped past him. He had picked up on things she would have never thought of.

"Something on your mind Rock?"

"Yeah…it's just about Country."

"What about? So he doesn't want to tell us why he really got booted out of the States, that's not unusual around here."

"He seems different, almost like he's deliberately trying to steer the subject away every time it gets brought up. But why? I mean, what could he have done, he's only what, 21 years old?"

"Age has nothing to do with it. Remember the Twins?" Rock shuddered.

"Yeah…" The painful memory was still very fresh in his mind.

"And the Washimine girl from Japan?"

"I got it Revy." Rock said; trying to keep the mental image of that white blade pushed through her neck at bay.

"It just seems for someone so friendly and easy-going, he sure seems to have something to hide…whatever it is. I just wonder if we can trust him?"

"That's awful cynical coming from you Rock. I'd say you're really getting good at reading people. But," Revy took a last, long pull on her cigarette and tossed it overboard, "We'll have a chance to find out. Here comes the Cartel."

A trio of boats sidled out from behind the island to the east. They were sleek, fast, low in the water and painted a dull blue so they blended with the waves. The crew of the lead boat appeared on deck, four men dressed in button-up shirts and light jackets. Dutch slowed the engines and the boats drifted together.

"Wake Country up. He'll handle this exchange; let's see how he does. And give him an earpiece." Dutch said as he dropped the engines to idle.

"Hey, Country," Rock said, shaking him awake. "You're up to bat." Country kicked his legs straight up, yawned, stretched and then hopped to his feet, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

"Well alrighty then Kimosabe!" Country clapped Rock on the shoulder, causing the smaller man to stumble. "I'll be sure not tah disappoint!" He assured Rock, tucking his curly hair up under his hat.

"How-dew-yew-dew there fellas?! Mind catchin' a line fer me?" Country tossed a mooring line to a Cartel crewman with a bandaged right hand. He quickly caught the line and tied the boats together.

"So, whadaya got fer me tah-day?" Country beamed at them, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. "Any of my fav'rites: the Three W's? Yah know; Weapons, Weed an' Women?"

"Just this package for our contacts." The guy who seemed to be in charge handed Country a briefcase.

"Say…who y'all call bossman?" Country asked, looking around at the crew in front of him and on the other boats. It was an odd question for him to ask and Rock wondered what the hell Country was doing.

"Who wants to know ?" asked the man with the bandaged hand.

"Jest an inquirin' mind. I'm tryin' tah be social, seein's I don't know y'all and y'all done know me…"

"We work…for, uh…The Lovelace Family." Another crewman said.

"Ohhhh! Lovelace!" Country said with a burst of volume. "Well why didn' yah say so outright? I'm friends with tha Lovelaces, great family an' wonderful kid." Country seemed to be having the time of his life, like he was chatting up an old buddy at the bar. Meanwhile, the Mexicans were looking nervous, shifting their feet on the deck.

"I remember they had this big, ole cat…oh what was tha fuzzball's name?" He scratched at his beard in thought.

"Eh, hehehe….I dunno man." The leader laughed nervously.

"Wuzz it Felix? Naw, that ain't right…Fernando? No, who in tha hell names a cat Fernando? Hum…" Rock walked over to Country and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Country, you do know the Lovelace family has a…"

"Rock!" Country barked; grasping Rock with both hands by the shoulders and turning him back towards Revy. "Shut tha fuck up please an' thanks. I know what I'm about." Country whispered into Rock's ear. "Can't you see I'm conversatin' with these fine gennellmuns here?!" Country boomed. He smiled broadly at the Cartel men. "Can't git any decent help 'round here anymore. Always naggin' in yer ear, yack, yack yack…never ends. Now, where was I?"

"Lovelace…cat?" Was the suggestion.

"Oh yeah, thanks fer remindin' me. Ah like him, pays attention. Now what was that name?" More scratching of the beard commenced.

"I think you said Felix." Bandaged Hand said.

"So Ah did, so Ah did indeed. He was the cutest little thing, he'd fetch crumpled up paper balls, ain't that sumthin'?" Country glanced around to hear no laughs and see only nervous smiles.

"Welp, I'll get outta yer hair. Take care genellmen, bless yer hearts!" The Cartel tossed back the mooring line and began to pull away. The third boat in the Cartel fleet was passing alongside Lagoon as they got organized.

"Oh, hey! Amigos!" Country yelled as he slid the suitcase along the deck with his foot and stood back. "Y'all forgot sumthin'!" Rock and Revy gasped and their jaws hit the deck while Country took a running start, like he was the place kicker going for an extra point, and kicked the suitcase back towards the Cartel's third boat.

. . .

"Yer bomb!" I hollered as the suitcase landed on the deck of the Cartel's third boat. The captain of the boat dove fer the suitcase, intendin' to throw it back or at least away. His fingers missed the handle an' pushed the case down the deck where it came to stop above the fuel tanks.

_FAAAAAAhhhh-WHHHOoooooooMMMMMMM! _The bomb inside the case exploded, touchin' off the gasoline underneath it. The boat was ripped in half by the blast an' began to quickly sink. The other two boats split off, one went tah port an' the main tucked tail an' ran. I touched the earpiece tah talk to Dutch.

"Country, what the hell's going on out there?" Dutch yelled in mah ear.

"Boss, two words: Suitcase bomb. We gonna go whup em?"

"Hell yeah we are! Hang on!" As we swung 'round, I clambered up onto the forward gun turret, figgered I'd make mahself useful. Dutch had installed ah M2 Brownin' heavy machine gun on the turret. He'd mentioned somethin' 'bout mercenary gunships, ah Terminator disguised as ah maid an' boarding parties with flamethrowers…the stress of the job must be gittin' to the man. I swung the gun to the second boat that was barrelin' down on us at top speed.

I released the top cover, flipped it up, grabbed the first round from the belt in the hopper on the gun's left, fed the round into the chamber, dropped the top cover, pounded it with mah fist to lock it intah place, checked the ammo belt again to see if anything was snagged, grabbed the bolt, pulled it back, then forward an' then back again tah full-load it an' then slammed it forward. Then I finally opened fire.

. . .

Country sure seemed to know his way around a machine gun, Rock observed as Country cut loose with long burst. The rounds weren't penetrating the boat's outer armor and that was saying something, Country was shooting a fifty cal. Empty shell casings from the gun rained down onto the turret, bouncing up and down on the deck and tumbled off the turret. Rock was getting rained on with brass shells, the hot casings were hitting him on the head and shoulders as he tried his best to not get shot. The noise from the gun was horrendous, each shot a chattering, thundering boom. The muzzle brake kicked out a ball of flame two feet across with each shot on either side of the gun. Despite the recoil, flash and noise, Country kept firing. The two boats passed each other, missing by inches. The wake they kicked up shot up between the two, soaking both vessels. Country swung around, firing now on the exposed rear cabin, the only weak point. As the rounds ripped through the bulkhead, smoke began to pour out through the holes and the boat began to list. At that moment, when Country had 'em by the balls…the gun jammed.

. . .

"Country! What the hell is going on up there?!" Revy yelled, emergin' from below-decks with an M79 Grenade Launcher an' ah pair of PM-63 RAK submachine guns slung over her shoulder.

"Jammed!" I yelled back, tryin' tah git the bolt tah open back up. I looked down at Rock, in cover behind the bridge an' gun turret base. "Rock, what in blazes are ya doin' down there?"

"Gun fights aren't exactly my thing!"

"What?! Ya choose to tell me this info now?!" Oh it don' matter, more important things at hand. "Got some pliers on ya?"

"No!" Damn it.

"How's 'bout a screwdriver?"

"No." Double damn it.

"How about a pen?" He suggested. That could work…

"Sure, toss it on up." Rock tossed up ah ball point, guess it'll do. I pulled back the chargin' handle an' popped the top cover.

"Know what you're doing Country?" Revy asked, loadin' her submachine guns. "That ain't the family farm tractor you're tinkering with."

"Aw, go an' suck ah railroad spike!"

The round had fired, but hadn't bin ejected. That meant the extractor claw hadn't pulled it out of the chamber, usually 'cause the extractor's gittin' worn. I took out my knife an' mighty ball-point an' went to work prying the casin' outta the chamber. All casin's have either a notch 'round it or a big rim for the extractor, ah little claw lookin' thing, to hold onto. If the casin' is stuck an' yah can git yer knife in there, you can usually get 'er out.

"Knife blade here…little further…maybe little with the pen here…" I was talkin' to myself as I worked; chewin' my tongue in ah genetically inherited bad habit. What? No one's perfect.

PING! The casing cleared an' the bolt cycled. I racked the chargin' handle twice tah ready the gun an' resumed firin'. The second boat was doin' another pass an' I opened up. Revy fired her M79 an' the round blasted ah hole in the cabin. I poured rounds through the hole an' somthin' inside cooked off. Smoke now was billowin' from inside like they was havin' ah bonfire inside an' the boat slowed to ah stop.

As Revy reloaded her M79, I realized that the M2 was outta ammo. Fifty rounds sure goes fast don't it? I dropped down to deck and ran to the nearest hatch.

"Revy! Armory?!"

"Second on the right!" I dropped below-decks an' opened the armory door. Whoooo…..damn. There was an awful lotta hardware in there an' only time to grab one.

I was halfway back up the ladder when the boat lurched hard an' ah torrent of water poured through the hatchway, soakin' me to the bone. It felt like we'd hit somethin'…somethin' hard. I popped mah head out like ah gopher into the bright sunlight again an' took ah look 'round to see what it was. In our manueverin', Dutch'd run over ah submerged section of the boat I'd done blown up with the suitcase. To my left, Rock was tryin' to help Revy. When we'd lurched, she lost her focus fer ah second I guess an' got hit in the leg. She seemed like she was havin' trouble standin' but wasn't below not tryin'.

"Fuckin' shit…piss, fucker, cock-suckin'…" Revy was cussin' up ah storm an' tryin' to git her left leg tah work.

"Revy, just let me help you."

"Let me go Rock! I'll get him, I'll show that squeaker, I'll…" Revy trailed off when I walked over, my shadow covering the two of them.

. . .

Rock looked up to see Country towering over him and Revy. Country was looking…different to say the least. A muscle in his neck stood out, angrily pulsing with flushed blood. He'd found a low-slung leather gun belt and holster for his revolver, hunting knife and some more 0.357 Magnum bullets for it too, but that wasn't all. The most predominate new feature to Country was the M1928A1 Thompson Submachine gun and the fifty round drum underneath it.

"Why don't y'all take a rest an' sit ah spell?" Country said. "Ah'll take it from here." He touched his earpiece and called Dutch.

"Can ya bring us alongside Cap'n'?"

"Yeah I can. What're you planning on doing?"

"There's ah nest of rats over there." He racked back the bolt on top of the Thompson. "Ah'm gonna go an' flush 'em out."

. . .

Dutch pulled us 'longside the main boat, the one where the Cartel men I'd done the exchange with were hidin'. I stepped across the gap an' felt the deck shift underneath mah boots. The crew must've felt it too 'cause the rear door opened up an' a Cartel crewmember stumbled out into the sun. He blinked rapidly; trying to adjust his eyes from the darkness of the cabin…he was momentarily blinded. A quick five round burst knocked him back, the blood splattered the bulkhead behind him. I dropped down into the walkway to the cabin an' fired through the gap between the door an' bulkhead. They'd tried to close it but ah steel toe boot in the jamb will tend tah slow that down.

I wrenched the door open an' stepped over the first two bodies. Behind ah panel of instruments, ah crewman blind-fired ah round but it went laughably wide. _BRRRRRRRRTTT!_ The panel exploded as 0.45 cal slugs smashed through it an' then ripped through the man's ribcage. I began to move through the cabin, gun up at high ready. A door flew open down the hall. I put another burst through the door an' another crewman dropped. His white shirt was rapidly turnin' red from the seven holes in his torso. The last door at the end burst open an' ah Cartel member appeared with an RPD machine gun.

CLICK!

The loudest sound on a battlefield almost echoed through the small confines of the boat. The man looked down at his gun, wonderin' where he'd gone wrong.

"You didn' load that right did'ja?"  
"Heh…hehehe…" He nervously laughed. "Guess not."

"Well that was dumb of ya." _BRRRRRRRTTTT!_ He dropped the gun an' collapsed to the deck, the gun clattered as he landed on it. Okay…time to double-check an' make sure I got 'em all.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck me! Please! Please don't shoot me!" Oh look, it's tha Bandaged Hand man. I'll call him Band-Aid. He stumbled outta the forward cabin with his hands above his head. Well, how 'bout that? Ah prisoner…We're gonna have fun with you.

. . .

"So what do you think we should do to him?" Revy asked sadistically as she glared at Band-Aid. "There's a pair of pliers in the toolbox, we could pull some of his teeth. Or, maybe I could get the three footer pipe wrench out and go to town on his balls." Revy was in ah horrid mood an' the tunnel through her leg wasn't helpin' any. It was six inches up from her knee; the bullet had gone in on the side an' popped out the back. It was jest an FMJ nine-mill, so the damage was minimal. Rock had wrapped her leg but Revy was still livid.

"Ah don' think that's gonna be necessary. 'Sides, Ah caught him, he's MY pris'ner." I said, unloading the Thompson. "An' he might tell us what we want to know yet…ain' that right?" Band-Aid jest glared at me.

"So who do you really work fer?" I began. "Ah know it ain't tha Lovelaces."

"Quick question Country." Rock interruptin' ah-gin. "How do you know the Lovelace family?"

"W'all that's easy! Ah was on spring break to Venezuela, got horribly lost an' wound up at their house. Had lunch with 'em, real neighborly folks. Tha maid wuzz ah bit well…peculiar tah say the least."

"You can say that again about the maid…"

"You got somethin' to add Benny?"

"Oh no! It's nothing…" Again, context people…context.

"Mmm-hmm. Anyhow, back you face-ache." Band-Aid was lookin' nervous now, caught in ah lie. "Ah recall dist-tanct-ly tha Lovelace boy havin' a dog, not a cat. T'was ah big 'ole fluffy white pooch. Lazlo, certainly wudn't Felix. So that's strike one 'gainst you. Never name-drop if yah can' back up yer story. Second was that suitcase of yers." (I'm purdy proud of this moment myself.) Band-Aid's eyes widened, he must have known about it.

"Durin' tha Cold War, ah suitcase bomb was invented up with ah trigger on the handle. Ah tiny little button. Depress it to start tha timer an' tha moar ticks yah gave it, the longer tha time. But it wasn't meant tah be passed 'round like ah jug at ah campfire, 'specially when someone might, I dunno, feel tha trigger on tha handle an' guess how long ya'll set it to. You'd given me about ah minute, so I figgered I'd bull-shit around some an' wind down tha clock."

"You think you so clever!" Band-Aid yelled; every trace of ah fake Mexican accent vanishin' as broken English was spat in an angry Thai accent.

"And I ain' done so quit yer yappin' an' stay quiet. Last was you." I smiled at the look on his face. He was wonderin' what he could have possibly done to fuck up.

"Yer right hand, s'all wrapped up like you done busted it. However, when Ah tossed yah tha moor line, you caught it wid that hand no problem. Kinda suspicious huh? Ah'd wager that yer naturally right handed. Don't feel bad, it's hard tah over-come ah lifetime's worth ah muscle memory." I grabbed his hand an' tried tah pull it t'wards me an' he pulled back.

"Quit yer fussin' or Ah'll let Revy have you." Revy had ah Cutlass out an' had the sights trained on his balls. "Oh, an' another thing. Ah don't know if y'all bothered to check, but you look about as Mexican as mah Grandma." I unwrapped the bandages to see ah large tattoo covering the back of his hand. It was ah skull, wreathed in flame with ah large dagger thrust up through its jaw to the hilt.

"Look familiar to anyone?"

"Hmm…" Dutch leaned in fer ah better look. "I have seen it around, just can't pin it down to any group in particular, I'll have to think for a minute."

"Well, maybe you'll tell us?" I looked up at Band-Aid to see his eyes burnin' with putrid hate. "Or not, tha's really too bad. Oh well…" I stood up and turned to Rock. "Rock, be ah friend an' git me two five gallon buckets an' ah towel from tha supply closet. Please and thank you."

"Why buckets?"

"Ah gave him ah chance to tell me willin'lly who he works for." I glared back at Band-Aid. "But now Ah'm gonna have tah make him."

. . .

Country hauled Revy, then the man up onto deck while Rock grabbed the buckets and towel. 'Country sure has a strange way of doing things.' Rock thought as he climbed the ladder. Back aft, Revy was sitting on deck and holding the man's hands above his head. He was lying down on the deck, his head lolling about as he tried to yank his arms free. Country thanked Rock and filled the buckets with seawater from over the side. He dropped the towel in one and stirred it around for a moment, getting it completely saturated. Country was quiet, not speaking more than he had to. To a casual observer, Country appeared normal, but Rock was growing wary of him. A chord in Country's neck jumped every few seconds and his face was quickly growing red.

"Country, are you okay?"

"Rock, Ah got five levels of mad." He pulled the towel out of the bucket, letting the water drip over the deck. "It takes me forever to git angry at all, but when Ah do, tha levels is: Miffed, Ticked, Pissed, Ornery and Redneck. Today Ah am very, very Pissed." Country slapped the towel across the man's face and started to pour the bucket out onto the man's face.

"_Bllleeearrrrggghhh!_" The man was writhing on the deck as he struggled to breathe through the towel and water being dumped on his face, his fear and paranoia starting to cloud his mind.

"Rock, make yerself useful an' hold his legs fer me would'ja? Country said, picking up the next bucket and lifting the towel.

"Now, are you gonna be helpful, or is yah gonna continue tah be difficult?"

"Fuck you!" _SLAP!_ The towel went back on and the second bucket rained down. The man was fighting for air, trying to suck in any he could through the towel but every time he found a spot to breathe, Country would hit him with another gallon.

"Now listen, Ah got all day." Country said as he refilled the buckets. "An' Ah got tha whole ocean tah work with. Ah'm gonna keep doin' this until Ah git tired, an' them I'm gonna give yah to Revy. An', if you want all yer bits an' pieces like fingers, toes, teeth an' balls tah stay where they're at…you really don' want that." Band-Aid didn't say anything, he just lay there and gulped lungful's of air. Country sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Alrighty then. Have it yer way." _SPLAT!_ The towel went back on and the man started to scream through it. Country started pouring again and also started kicking the man in the ribs, causing muffled howls of pain with each steel-toed jab.

Rock was beyond mortified at this point, staring up at Country as he held Band-Aids legs, so terrified he couldn't let go. Rock had seen a transformation in Country and it was not for the better. Not even an hour ago, Country had been smiling a big, goofy grin, running around the boat like a kid. Now, here he was: waterboarding a man and kicking him savagely in the ribs…just who better yet, **what** was he?!

"I." _KICK!_ "Want." _KICK!_ "Ah." _KICK!_ "Name." _KICK!_ "To." _KICK!_ "Day!" Out of water, the sixth bucket now, Country pulled the towel off and asked for what felt to be the hundredth time:

"Ah want tah know…who you work fer."

Band-Aid threw up a stomach full of seawater, coughing roughly from the harshness of the salt. He heaved his chest a few times, coughing some more and getting his breathing under control. But, finally, at long last, he finally gasped out:  
"I work…for…Mistah Lin…"

"FINALLY! Thank you!" Country yelled, throwing up his arms in mock celebration. "Thank you! Now, was that so fuckin' hard?! Okay…" Country refilled the buckets. "Ah'm gonna ask yah another question…"

"No more! No more! No more! I talk, I talk!" The man yelled; his eyes wide with fear.

"Okay then, tha's better." Country's tone was softer now Rock noticed. Maybe he was starting to calm down?

"So. Why does Mr. Lin spend his hard-earned men, money, weapons an' material tryin' tah git me set up on ah date with Davy Jones?"

"Your fight at Yellow Flag, moonshine. Also death of Cousin at Lagoon hands, Mr. Chin." 'Did things really blow up that badly? I guess so.' Rock thought as he remembered Miss Balalaika blowing up the hotel with Mr. Chin inside it.

"So wha's tha big deal?"  
"No one buy our products now. Honor ruined. We are losing territory and power."

"Well, ya should'a thought about tha' when you were passin' ethanol as corn licker." Band-Aid glared at Country but couldn't really argue with him.

"Hey Dutch, we're all done up here. Do yah think we should jest drop him off at their docks an' go home?"

"That's the plan Country." Dutch turned The Black Lagoon to port. "Good work today."

. . .

We pulled into Roanapur Harbor 'bout half an hour later. Everyone looked ah bit haggard, holes an' shell casings covered the boat. Dutch guided the Black Lagoon to Lin's dock an' heaved-to. Men from Mr. Lin's gang were there, prob'ly waitin' fer those three boats to come back.

"Hey fuckers! I think this belongs to you!" Revy yelled, limpin' over to Band-Aid and grabbin' him by the collar. She hauled him over to the edge of the deck.

"Recognize this shit-head?!" She tossed him to the dock an' flipped him the bird. Band-Aid could-a…he should-a an' probably would-a run. But, he jest had to git in one last word. Idiot.

"You not seen last of us Hick!" He yelled, standing up an' squaring off 'gainst me. "We are many, you are few. You go with stupid friends. Two-Hands and Lagoon no save you. Go home to farm and fuck cows!"

Ya done fucked up now.

"Lemme tell ya something." I said quietly, keepin' as calm as possible. "If yer gonna insult someone, do it when yer outta shootin' range." I drew my gun an' _Ka-BLAM! Ka-BLAM! _Planted ah 0.357 hollow-point in each of his kneecaps. Band-Aid dropped to the dock, wailin' with pain. His knees had exploded from the expansion of the rounds, bone shards stuck out sharply from the holes an' fragments were blasted all down the dock. His lower legs were at odd, ninety degree angles from the uppers an' blood was gushing out, pooling quickly on the concrete. I used mah foot tah roll him over onto his back.

"Now, lissen good. Ah was willin' tah let today go 'cause Ah say 'live an' let live'. But you jest couldn't handle that." I was squatted down next to him, makin' sure he heard every word. "If it wus a blood feud y'all wanted, well congrat-you-fuckin'-lations, yeh got one. Be sure tah tell Mr. Lin pers'nlly, that Ah will see his entire org'nzation wiped offa the face of God's Earth an' that he hangs from ah sour apple tree…you got me?"

The man nodded profusely and croaked out ah hoarse "Yes…I will."

"Good." I stood up, gun trained on his nose. I slowly pulled back the hammer an' brought a new round around. "Now start crawlin', yah fuckin' waste of bullets."

He started to move t'wards the warehouse an' his petrified buddies. I aimed 'bove their heads by two or three hairs an' fired another shot. _Ka-BLAM! _

"Yah hear that?! Yah fuckin' hear me?!" _Ka-BLAM! _"You tell yer boss that the Redneck of Roanapur is here tah stay!" _Ka-BLAM!_ By now, the rest of Lin's men were running for cover, hiding inside the warehouse and boat pens. "An' you tell him Ah'm a-comin' fer him an' Ah'm a-gonna skin his ass alive! An' then, Ah'm gonna string him up on main street! Ya hear me?!" _Ka-BLAM! _

Thoroughly satisfied with myself; I reloaded my gun an' put it away, then stepped back onto the boat. Dutch brought the engines back up an' guided us away from the dock.


	4. Chapter 4

"Country…I have just one question to ask." Dutch said as we trooped outta the boat pen. "What the fuck happened out there?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"Well, Christ Country, you water-boarded a guy and then kneecapped him!" Benny said, his hands on his head, looking rather exasp'rated.

"Yeah...Ah did. Oh, damn, I got some 'splainin' to do, don' I?"

"Yeah, just a bit, for starters." I was feelin' like I was under tha microscope, gittin' scrutinized by the rest of Lagoon. It wasn't right to be keepin' them in tha dark, may as well git it over with.

"Well, we gonna stand 'round here in tha parkin' lot or we gonna go sit down somewhere an' talk?" Revy looked over at Dutch.

"The Flag?"

"The Flag."

Again, I found myself crammed inside ah car built fer short people with Benny at the wheel. I had new instructions I was tah not be fightin'. I was tah sit quietly, not look left, not look right, an' enjoy my drink…quietly. Major emphasis on quietly. We already had enough people in the city that wasn't overly fond of us without addin' more to the list. We'd apparently added Mr. Lin an' his merry hoods an' that was one too many.

"Not drinking 'Shine tonight Country?" Bao asked as he handed me ah beer.

"Nooo...Ah'm takin' it easy. 'Shine can make me…well…not me. It's like roulette. Sometimes nothin' happens and sometimes Ah go all Mr. Hyde."

"Well you're alright by me." Bao beamed proudly at me. "You and Rock's fight attracted so many people that I made money to cover the damages and then some extra." Well, ya can't argue with that, now can you?

"Well, although I don't intend on makin' it a habit…" I tipped my hat to Bao, "Yer welcome." I turned to Dutch on mah left. "So about this Mr. Chin? Who was he to us? Did yah fuck his old lady? Run his dog over with tha car?"

"I wish; that'd be easier to deal with. We were running jobs for Hotel Moscow more than jobs for him and he didn't like it. Moscow was taking over his territory, with the added help from us. So he hired this local guy and his fleet to teach us a lesson. Revy turned their boats in a sunken scrap pile and Miss Balalaika had a chat with Chin. Then she blew up the hotel he was hiding in with him in it. The main thing here is: Chin and Lin were cousins."

"Huh." About all I could really say, not much else I could add to that. "Ah 'spose Ah can see why he'd be butt-hurt over it." We all sat quietly for ah while, sippin' our drinks an' starin' at our reflections in the glass bottles behind the bar. Everyone pulled out cigarettes an' lit up, I declined Benny's offer. A few puffs later, Rock broke silence.

"So Country, we're still waiting your full story."

"Alright, seems fair." I stood up from mah stool. "But I'm gonna have a cig fer this, an' no offense, but Ah don't do cheapo American Sprite or whatever that stuff is." I bought a pack of Lucky Strikes from the machine next to the jukebox. "If Ah'm gonna git cancer, Ah'm gittin' mah money's worth." I borrowed Revy's lighter an' took ah pull. "Well, Ah got on Uncle Sam's bad side in tha worst kinda way."

. . .

"Heh." Revy snorted, puffing on her cigarette. "That's a story old as dirt around here. Hell, even Benny managed to do that."

"Yah did?"  
"Yep. I was fixing books and accounts for the mob, doing all sorts of white-collar stuff. Then they wanted to know what the FBI had on them, so I cracked the Bureau." He looked off nostalgically. "But I was but an amateur then and I got traced. The mob was screwed and really pissed of course. They decided to take their revenge out of my ass. I was in the trunk of a car headed for the Miami Harbor to get fitted for a pair of concrete boots."

"And that's when yours truly saved his ass!" Revy boasted.

"You hijacking the car I was in because you were getting chased by the Miami Vice Cops isn't really a rescue." Benny leaned over the bar to look at Revy. "That and you only knew I was there because you decided to check the trunk to see if there was anything worth stealing. And do you know what she did when she saw me in the trunk? Said 'Aw fuck it-all' and slammed it closed with me still in it." Revy sighed with annoyance; these minor details were ruinin' her version of the story.

"So what were you doing in Miami Revy?" I grinned, cigarette clamped tightly in mah teeth, "Were ya on Spring Break 'er somethin'?"

"Ha! If you mean a break from running from the NYPD, then yeah, I was on break." Revy's face looked lost in thought, some old memories. "I was getting out; away from Mott Street, away from New York City, out of the country if needed. There was a ship going to Thailand in Miami. I had no ID, no passport or anything and no money for a plane ticket anyway, but I had enough for a bunk on the rust bucket, so I figured, why not?"

"And that's when you met me." Dutch broke in. "I hired Revy first. Benny…you disappeared for a while. Something about doing computer work for the Chinese? Koreans? Didn't work out so well did it Benny-Boy?"  
"Nope. Not a bit. That whole Communism thing turned out to not be all it's cracked up to be."

"So anyway, you keep changing the subject." Bao grumbled across the bar, wiping the same glass fer the past ten minutes.

"You've been listenin'?"

"Of course I've been listening. I own a bar ya Bumpkin. Now quit your stalling and spill." Bao glared at me an' gave his ultimatum. "And until you do, you're cut off!"

"Oh now that's cruel'n unusual punishment." I slipped another cigarette from the pack an' lit it off the dyin' embers of the last one…it was lookin' to be ah long evenin'.

"Alright. Three years ago, Ah was an 18 year old kid who lived on a small dirt road ten miles outta town in ah very, very rural part of Michigan. Dad worked at tha power plant an' Mom worked at tha ER on nights so Ah was by mahself a lot an' didn' have any real friends to speak of. I was workin' construction, drivin' bulldozers. One of tha fabricators an' I got to talkin'about guns an' shootin', huntin' an' tha like. I felt like he was ah good friend an' Ah made tha mistake of trustin' him. He said that he was a member of this group of guys who called themselves ah militia. 'Like tha Minutemen in tha Revolution?' Ah asked. 'Yeah, jest like them.' He said; they called themselves tha Michigan Minutemen. He said they was havin' a meetin' an' I was welcome to come. So Ah went."

"Well that was your first mistake." Revy said. "Don't mix with fanatical types, it never ends well."

"In hindsight its easy to say that but Ah was young, naïve an' stupid. The guys in charge of tha group was real slick characters, snake charmers. They spun ah yarn about how any day, there was gonna be a hail of nukes, turnin' the United States into ah glass parkin' lot. Then, there was gonna be three million Koreans, five million Russians an' seven million screamin' Chinamen comin' over tha horizon with ah legion of tanks behind them an' tha only thing that could stop them was ah thin line of patriotic militiamen. Well Ah was, like Ah said, young, naïve an' stupid so Ah swallered their lies hook, line an' sinker. I signed up." I took a few gulps of beer. My throat was gittin' dry from tha smoke an' jack-jawin'.

"I became ah model member. Ah went to every meetin'. Went on every patrol, every exercise. Every range day, Ah was there. I didn' have money fer my own rifle but had this six-shooter here left from Gran'pap when he passed, an' I got good with it. Then, Ah got promoted to Corporal an' Designated Marksman by 19. By 20 they made me Sergeant an' gave me ah squad. 21 rolled around an' I was elig'ble to be an' officer an' take over a platoon. But, I had tah do an operation, prove mahself yah know?"

"So what'd you do? Steal something?" Benny asked.

"Right on tha money. They said Ah had to take five guys, an' steal somethin' from tha local Guard post."

"You really were stupid weren't you?" Revy asked, shakin' her head at my foolhardiness.

"Ah certainly was 'cause Ah went an' did it. We went in an' stole two M2 Fiddy-cal machine guns. An' we thought we was purdy bad-ass, didn' git caught an' I sure as hell got my promotion. Then, ah month ago, things started goin' downhill an' fast."

"Ah, the good part I've been waitin' for." Revy said. "So how'd you fuck up?"

"Well, stealin' the guns got the 'tention of tha Bureah an' the ATF. We'd had some issues with the local cops before but nuthin' we couldn' handle. Once tha FBI got involved they started an investigation an' got ahold of one of our guys. He was ah family man with ah wife 'n' three little kiddos to take care of. They told him that if he gave up member names, locations an' any other info they asked, he wouldn't see tha inside of ah jail cell. So, he spilled. Everything. His story got all of us ah huge target painted on our backs of course, but Ah still don' blame him. Now, at tha time, I was roomin' with four other fellahs from work an' we was all in tha militia. It was ah Friday night, we'd had ah big party, everyone'd bin drinkin' an' they all passed out downstairs. I wen' upstairs to mah room an' went tah sleep. 'Bout four in the mornin', we got no-knocked."

"No-knocked?" Rock asked.

"Tha cops didn' give us any warnin'. Usually they'll knock an' give yah a chance to come out all peaceful-like. They jest busted in an' started arrestin' people. Tha fellah who they'd gotten to leak info had told them were we lived. Tha local cops, tha county sheriff, some state troopers an' agents from tha Bureau an' tha ATF were all there. It was ah big hulla-balloo with flashbangs goin' off, tha doors gittin' kicked in an' everyone hollerin'. I woke up an' knew tha jig was up. Lucky fer me, there was ah trapdoor in tha ceilin' of mah closet an' it lead to the attic. Ah clambered on up an' sat up in tha rafters fer a spell, tryin' to figger out what tah do."

"You didn't shoot it out with them?" Revy asked, lookin' disappointed with tha story's turn.

"Ah said Ah was stupid, but not that stupid. 'Sides, Ah'd left mah gun in tha truck. I'd bin drinkin' an' plum fergot it. So, an hour or so ticks by an' most of tha cops leave. Ah climbed down from tha attic an' shimmied down tha gutter drain. Ah got to mah truck an' started up. Problem was Ah forgot tah turn tha headlights off so they wouldn't come up when I turned tha truck on. That an' that Ah'd left tha radio playin' when Ah'd turned tha truck off. So of course, big huge beacon of headlights an' Ah was blastin' Williams Junior loud 'nough to make windahs rattle. So tha cops see an' hear me of course. Ah took off like greased lightnin' an' they opened fire on me. Ah fired ah cylinder of shells out tha window but jest shot tha hell outta ah tree an' tha mailbox. Did'n hit ah single one of 'em."

"So then what, is that when you stole that plane?" Rock asked.

"Gittin' there, almost. That was three days later. Ah took to tha back roads, managed to lose 'em. Ah stopped to git gas an' somethin' to eat in another town where Ah wasn't known. Then I saw tha news on tha TV in tha rest'raunt. 'Parently, tha commanders of tha milita, wasn't as fine an' upstandin' as they made themselves out tah be. They was picked up fer larceny, bribery, 'bezzlement, blackmail, wire-tappin', intimidatin' public officals, threatinin' said public officials, stealin' federal documents an' ah laundry list ah mile long. One of 'em even had kiddie porn in his house. Ah had decided already that Ah wasn't gonna go tah jail but now Ah really wasn't if Ah was gonna be lumped in with ah buncha dirty bastard crooks an' ah God damn pervert. So I was wand'rin' round tha county, tryin' to figure out what to do an' the cops caught up to me three days later. Tha's when Ah went to tha airport an' stole tha bomber…an' here Ah am."

"Wow." Benny said, his beer forgotten on the bar. "That's…uh…quite the story."

"Yep. It sure is, Ah can' believe it mahself, how stupid I was. Anyhow, does that answer yer questions?"

"Almost." Dutch said. "What about that temper of yours? We have one hot-head already, we don't need two."

"Yeah, 'bout that. See, nine times outta ten, Ah'm calm as can be an' cool as ah cucumber. But, tha way Ah learned tah deal with anger an' other things was tah let it go, let it go an' let it go some more. Problem is; Ah can only do that so much 'fore I blow a gasket. An' when I do, as Rock knows, there are five levels of me bein' angry: Miffed, Ticked, Pissed, Ornrey an' Redneck, or 'Full Redneck' as tha guys in tha militia called it."

"So you were at Level Three today?"

"Yeah Ah was. Ah was a bit miffed in Mizz Balalaika's office when she was pointin' mah gun at me, 'cause Ah really didn' appreciate that. Mr. Lin succeeded in tickin' me off tha other day right here an' we know how that went. An' today, we almost got blowed up, Revy got shot an' tha only person who could tell me tha man responsible wadn't talkin' AN' THEN…he told me to go an' fuck cows. So, yeah, that boiled me over tah Pissed."

"You're not going to make a habit of this are you?"

"Ah won' make promises Ah can' keep. It's somethin' that I've bin tryin' tah work with my whole life an' it's gotten me intah trouble more than Ah care to admit. Ah ain' proud of it, I've bin tryin' tah deal with it…an' I'm real sorry." I took ah pull on my cig'rette, addin' to tha cloud of haze in tha bar. It was quiet fer ah moment as everyone digested my story. I sure hoped they weren't going to boot my butt back outside, then tell me tah git lost an' stay there.

"So is the FBI going be looking for you Country?" Dutch asked after a minute or so.

"Nah. I saw tha news when Ah was refuelin' the B-24 in Canada. They think I was headin' off to Mexico an' crashed in tha Gulf off of Texas. Complete opposite direction. That's Government efficiency for yah."

"Well that's good. The last time Uncle Sam's boys came to Roanapur, the city nearly got ripped apart. Oh, that incident involved the Lovelace family…" All eyes went back to me.

"Yeah…" Revy said; eyes narrowed suspiciously at me. "How do you _really_ know the Lovelaces? Or do you expect us to buy that Spring Break bullshit?"

"No, Ah really was on Spring Break, but not fer fun in tha sun. Ask yerself this: Who better to learn guerrilla warfare from than one ah tha best?" Revy's eyes went huge.

"You don't mean that fuckin' maid?!" I nodded, remembering that afternoon. "So…how'd it go?"

"How do yah think? Tha commanders sent me an' ah few guys on ah secon' mission to try an' talk to her or anyone we could find tah bring back an' help train us. We knew she was outta tha business, but didn' realize how committed she was to stayin' there. Miss Cisneros or rather Roberta, didn' take too kindly to bein' tracked down an' pestered fer lessons on guerrilla tactics. So when she found out Ah wasn't gonna take no fer an answer, she started beatin' tha hell outta me. For ah woman that's crippled up, she prob'bly would'ah killed me if it hadn' been fer her master. Garcia got her to stop an' took the smallest of little pities on me. So we had lunch. Ah even got to meet tha dog. Then that annoyin' little mini-maid Fiona walked me to tha gate an' told me not to let tha door hit me in tha ass on the way out. I made it home with mah arm in ah sling, broken in two places. Still hurts." I crushed out tha dog-end of my cigarette. "An' that…was that. Jest two short months ago. How time flies." We all sat for a while, sippin' at our drinks. Dutch said he had to go make a phone call. He disappeared for ah minute, talkin' quietly to someone on tha other end. He nodded a lot and after a few minutes, hung the phone back up on tha wall.

"Well, I did some research." Dutch said, returning to his stool. "And your story checks out." He looked at me again with those dark glasses, like he was starin' intah my soul an' takin' a look 'round. "You have potential Country. For what exactly, I'm not sure yet. You're not a bad kid, just have done some really, really stupid shit but that's what people do when they're young. Besides, you saved our lives out there today and I can't forget that. But," He paused. "If you want to keep working with us, you will learn to keep that temper of yours in check. Do you understand me?"

"Yessir."

"Good." He looked down at his watch and turned to address everyone. "I think it's time to head out. We've got another job in the moring. Let's call it a day."

. . .

"So how has our self-styled freedom fighter adjusting to Roanapur?" Balalaika asked Dutch.

"Country seems to be adjusting well. He gets along with Benny and Rock…hell, even with Revy from time to time." Dutch shifted on his bench and continued. "He shoots well and didn't seem to have too much of a problem with killing but didn't seem to be getting his rocks off from it either. He follows orders to the letter and is willing to work any job I give him. His only flaws so far seem to be he naps hardcore and at odd hours. That and when he did boil over. It seems to take him forever to get angry, but when he does, he rivals Revy. Other than that…" Dutch lazily sipped at his beer. "I think I'll keep him around, provided he keeps his blood pressure down and doesn't make us any more enemies."

Balalaika smiled to herself, happy she hadn't dispatched Country in her office. Dutch and Balalaika watched Country, Benny and Rock were working on the B-24 which Country had renamed "_Roanapur Raider_." Well, rather Country and Benny were working on the plane and Rock was trying to help the best he could. Revy however, was nowhere to be found, probably drinking at the Rip-Off Church.

"You do have a talent for reading people Dutch, a real eye into people's minds."

"Thanks. But I have to ask what the occasion is. I'm sure you didn't drive out here in the boondocks to look at rusted hangars or an overgrown runway."

"Oh, business…all work and no play. Very well, there is a job for Lagoon and that plane." Dutch reviewed the manifest Balalaika handed him.

"That's quite an interesting list. But it's nothing that we haven't handled before though." Dutch stood and finished off his beer.

"Oh, and I heard about Country's story from Bao. It's quite…unfortunate. Having to flee your own country never is easy." Balalaika looked almost morose for a moment, her eyes downcast as she remembered a different time.

"Miss Balalaika? How is yah doin' today, alright?" Country asked, trying to clean his hands and arms with a rag. He was in a mechanic's jumpsuit that was covered in oil, grease and smelled like a fuel depot but he still smiled all the same.

"Oh, don't mind me. I didn't realize you were listening."

"Naw Ah wasn't. Tis rude to eavesdrop. Ah was jest gonna tell Dutch tha news."

"And?" Country tipped back his hat and grinned, his teeth shining brightly against the darkness of the oil splashed across his face.

"Engine 3 is busted worse'n Ah thought. Ah'm gonna have to delay fer another few hours or so. Ah won't lie, Ah never was much of ah grease monkey, but we should be able to git off tha ground sooner rather'n later." Dutch groaned at the news, but remembered how many times he'd had to push back timelines because of engine trouble on the Black Lagoon.

. . .

Meanwhile, Benny stopped workin' on the radio to look down the runway an' see ah cloud of dust at the far end.

"Hey, is that Revy?"

"I don't think so." Rock turned to look as well. "Unless she brought a friend…or three…or ten." Ah dozen vehicles made the turn off the main road an' started t'wards the hangar. They were mostly large vans, packed full of mafia soldiers.

"Yep, it's Mr. Lin's boys." I said, glancin' 'round the hangar door and seein' that skull painted on tha van doors. "Dutch! We've got visitors!"

"Noted." Dutch addressed Balalaika an' her ever-present Sergeant Boris. "Will you be leaving?"

"Oh hardly. Hotel Moscow has been meaning to go to war with Mr. Lin and now we'll have an excuse." She drew her Stechkin and Boris pulled his MP446. The vehicles was about 300 yards out an' closing fast but no one had fired yet.

"Dutch, whaddya wanna do?" I asked, waitin' fer orders.

"We're going to have a fight today, no way around that. Get ready!" The S&W 629 came out of its holster.

"Rock, Benny! Look sharp an' arm up!" I yelled as they hid behind the big rollin' toolboxes.

"We told you we don't like guns!"

"Git yer butts up in tha nose turret. It's hooked up an' switched on."

"Not gonna happen."

"Rock!" The vehicles were 200 yards out. "Unless you've forgotten, yer Revy ain't here to bail yer ass out." I grabbed the Thompson an' ammo drum from the backseat of the car. "So unless you got some better ideas, I'd git my rear in gear if I was you!" Rock got up an' ran to the plane. "And take Benny with you!"

The first vehicles pulled up outside the hangar an' before they could git organized, we opened fire. The first barrage ripped the lead van apart an' the driver caught the worst of it. His matter splattered over the windshield an' his window as his chest popped like ah water balloon. His body slumped forward an' the van crashed intah the next one over. His buddies were able to form an arc in front of the hangar doors an' took cover behind their vehicles. They were throwing wild shots, blind firin' from cover. Ah few went wide an' hit the plane; one clipped an exposed hydraulic line an' sprayed fluid everywhere.

"You God-Damned buzzard bait!" I fired ah burst at the van the shot had come from. "Ah jest fixed that!" Speakin' of the plane…what the hell was Rock an' Benny doin'?

. . .

Rock was having a set of conniptions. He had never sat behind the controls of any sort of heavy vehicles or machinery. Now here he was, trying to figure out how to operate the controls of the nose turret of a B-24!

"What in tarnation are ya doin' up there Rock?!" Country yelled from below and to the right. "Playin' hide tha apple? Shoot!"

"How?! I don't even know how to work this!"

Country turned and sat down behind cover so he was facing Rock. He sat like he was in the gunner's seat, his Thompson across his lap.

"Tha big pedal on yer left, toe to go left, heel to go right." Country mimicked the movements with his feet. Rock applied pressure and the turret snapped hard to the left. "Easy there Seabiscuit! It's made fer trackin' fighters ya know. Now, right toe for up…" Twin M2 Browning Fifty Cals popped up, "Right heel fer down" and the guns dropped back down.

"Tha crossbar has yer sight an' trigger. Put that big circle on whatever yah wanna make go away. Pull those two triggers tah make those things go away. Use short bursts!"

Rock sat in the gunner's seat, wrestling with his own moral compass. He'd staved off using or even carrying a gun thus far and why should he stop now? Country was right though, Revy wasn't here to bail him out and save him. A bullet from the vans hit the plexiglass nose of the bomber and richocheted off. There were too many men for Country, Dutch, Balalaika and Boris to handle on their own, he'd have to save himself for a change…

"Rock! If ya ain't got the stones fer it, move over an' let Benny give it ah whirl!" Rock looked back at Benny, in cover behind the bulkhead of the bomb bay. Another round bounced off the nose as the guys outside noticed him sitting in the plane. Country was trapped behind a toolbox because the Thompson's drum magazine jammed; Dutch was pinned down behind some machinery and couldn't even return fire. Balalaika was calling her men on the phone but it would be too late for them by the time they arrived. All things considered, there were really only two options open to Rock: Shoot or die.

"I'll do it." Rock decided.

The twin Fifty-Cals chugged, spitting out rounds that sailed through the vehicles. The first burst demolished a sedan and the second burst turned one of the vans into a sieve.

"Good work Rock, keep up tha pressure." Country encouraged. He had gotten his ammo drum unjammed and reloaded the Thompson. "C'mon Dutch, let's flank right. Miss Balalaika!"

"What Country?" She called back between bursts.

"You 'n' Boris flank left! Ready, go!"

They stood and advanced outside the hangar to opposite sides of the arc. The sounds of gunfire reached a crescendo with bursts from a Stechkin, pops of an MP446, the boom of an S&W 0.44, the rapid staccato of a Tommy Gun and the roaring of twin fifty's.

. . .

I rounded the last van an' came barrel tah barrel with Boris. Finally…clear. Miss Balalaika had called ah squad of her men; they arrived on scene jest in time to help clean up the mess. Rock was sitting against the nose landing gear with his arms wrapped around his knees, pale an' shaking.

"You alright there buddy? Yah look like you seen ah ghost."

"I…had said…I wouldn't kill anyone…"

"Oh, yah didn't. You jest kept their heads down long 'nough so we could clear them. Don't beat yerself up over it."

"Really? I still feel bad about it." He seemed tah perk up ah little bit but was still lookin' green 'round the gills.

"Look, Rock. Just 'cause yah shoot someone don' mean yah have to like it. Ah'd be more worried if yah shot someone an' didn't have ah problem." I put out mah hand an' hauled Rock to his feet. "Pullin' ah trigger is ah physically easy thang tha do. Livin' with it is another thing. But it's easier tah do when yah have ah good, honest an' just reason tah do so. Defending life, liberty, tha pursuit of happiness, those were mine…at least when Ah was in tha militia. Now, it's defendin' y'all. What are yours? Figure that out an' life gits easier. What're you fightin' fer, what purpose in this life is worth it'? Know what Ah mean?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Thas better. Hell, think of it this way if anythin'. Ah say it like this: I gotta protect not jest myself, but tha rest ah y'all too. I only got so many people I count as friends, so Ah gotta take care of tha ones I got right? Even if they're ah buncha goofballs like yerself."

"Thanks." Rock smiled ah little an' the color started to come back to his face. "That whole taking care of your own thing right?"

"Now yer gittin' it. Now c'mon, let's see what tha brains round here got to say."

"Oh dear…there's no one alive to interrogate." Balalaika was clipping ah cigar as she surveyed the clean-up. "But it doesn't matter in the end. We know they were from Mr. Lin."

"That much is obvious. What are your next moves Balalaika?" Dutch said, rollin' ah shell casin' 'round on ah patch of runway with his boot.

"We'll need time to organize and plan. Perhaps we'll bring Mr. Chang along on this little adventure for insurance." Balalaika lit her cigar an' walked to her waitin' car.

"Oh, and Country, good work again, but don't forget…you still owe me. Dutch will fill you in on that."

"Ah ain' forgotten ma'am. No one likes ah welcher."

"Glad to hear it. Don't be strangers Lagoon, visit sometime." As Balalaika pulled away, Revy an' Eda from the Rip-Off Church pulled up on Eda's motorcycle.

"I can't believe this! I'm gone for one afternoon and you make a fuckin' mess!" Revy surveyed the remaining carnage, the blood stains, an' the spent shell casings. "What the hell happened?!"

"Ask tha new nose gunner, Corporal Rock." I said, clappin' him on the shoulder.

"WHAT?! Rock? On the fifty's and I missed it?!" She stormed over to Rock and they started arguin' 'bout him standin' in tha Twilight or somethin' er' other.

I unloaded tha Thompson, sat down on the floor next to the forward landin' gear an' took ah breather. Now Mr. Lin had attacked us in broad daylight, out in tha open. It was ah bold move on his part, assaultin' tha airfield like that an' prob'ly knowin' Miss Balalaika was there too.

'Maybe he leanrt his lesson this time?' I thought an' immediately dismissed tha thought. 'Nah, he wouldn'. If anythin' today jest pissed him off even more.' I looked 'round at everyone in the hangar, wonderin' what they thought of tha situation we was in. What's more was the naggin' sensation in tha back of my head that it was gonna git ah lot worse 'fore it got any better.

. . .

* * *

Wow, all I can say is that it has been a real trip writing thus far. If I had known it would be this fun, I would have started years ago. I hope you are all enjoying the story so far and aren't terribly confused as to what's going on. I redid this section a few times, my roommates proof-read it and all I got were confused looks. Feel free to chime in at anytime and let me know how I'm doing.


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, I'll just say it. This is a REALLY long chapter and I'll be throwing A LOT of stuff at you. So strap on your helmets and hold on.

* * *

"What do you have for me today? Please let it be someone good." The Doctor asked; looking up from his desk cluttered with pages of notes.

"Oh, Doc I have a surprise. It's actually two someones. Two new subjects; haven't even been dead 12 hours." The Intern rolled in a gurney through the swinging doors and was pulling another behind him.

"How did we get so lucky?"

"Well one was found in the park, death resulted from blood loss. The other was brought to us by one of The Cleaners, a gunshot to the back of the skull."

"That will complicate things a little but nothing we cannot handle." The Doctor stood from his desk and walked over to the gurneys. He unzipped the first body bag and examined the corpse inside. He looked it over like a buyer would a piece of meat at the market. "Eh, it shall be satisfactory." He opened the other bag and examined the other body, turning the head so he could examine the 0.38 caliber sized hole. "This one we should be able to work with too. Very well." The Doctor turned back to his desk and collected some of his papers. "Put them into the tanks and begin hooking them up. I'll be along in a minute to help."

The next day, the Doctor met with his Benefactor, the supplier of his money and facility in Roanapur. He was to make his progress report and the Doctor was very optimistic. The Benefactor was a crusty, grumbling old man who was determined to keep being a crusty, grumbling old man as long as he possibly could. He'd rather be a crusty, grumbling younger man if he had his way though and that's where The Doctor came in. The Benefactor was waiting at his table at the Sam Pam Palace Restaurant, complaining loudly to anyone who would listen about the service.

"Good afternoon sir!" The Doctor said, smiling broadly as he sat down at the table. "How are you feeling today?"

"Like shit yah damn hack." The Benefactor grumbled. "I can't walk, can't fuck, can't see worth ah damn, and I have a catheter in my dick 'cause I can't piss on my own. How the hell do you think I'm feeling?" He banged his cane on the table, leaving it there as he hacked his way through a coughing fit.

"And your lifetime of smoking hasn't helped either. Oh, yes. I'll have the… Confit de Canard and pinot grigio, please and thank you." The Doctor said as the waitress took their orders.

"Jest gimme some damn spaghetti an' meatballs." The Benefactor griped, annoyed he'd been cut-off from alcohol and was missing his afternoon Jack and Coke. He was missing a large piece of his liver as well, lost to cirrhosiss. He sat in his chair, seething the anger of an old man yearning to be young again. "So how're you usin' my money? You haven't been spending it all on hookers and blow have you?"

"You're as charming as always. No, we are actually making good progress." The Doctor said as their food arrived. "I have narrowed down the process to the best range of subjects."

"I don't want the range of subjects, I want results damn it."

"And you will get them, sir, you must be patient."  
"I'm missing almost a third of my liver, I'm on my second heart an' it ain't even ah real one. It's a damn machine, ticking away inside of me. Besides, I'm 89 years old, I don't have time to be patient, I could be dead tomorrow!"

"I'm sorry to hear you feel that way but these things take time." The Doctor said between bites of his meal. "I'll have you know we almost had a success last run. The only problem was that our subject was a crack-cocaine addict and his heart exploded during the process."

"Well then why don't you find someone who isn't a damn junky?"

"I was just getting to that, if you would be patient. We have two subjects, a boy and a girl, age 12 or 13. Perfect physical condition except for the injuries they sustained."

"Don't bother me with details. Just give me a timeline."

"We will be able to see the results of this round of testing in about a year and I am very optimistic."

"Bah. You hacks are all the same." The Benefactor twirled spaghetti around his fork and stabbed a meatball to hold the noodles on the fork. "But if that what it takes, so be it."

. . .

"So why are you so confident this time around?" The Intern asked as he checked the readings on the tanks containing the two bodies suspended in a blue fluid.

"Well we first used old subjects who had died from old age and natural causes. But the problem is that their bodies could not regenerate since they had since ceased growing. Then we used middle-aged and younger subjects, but in this city…" The Doctor made an adjustment on the panel, fiddling with the dials. "Most of them were in such poor health that their bodies couldn't fix themselves, even with our help."

"And don't forget the crackhead and his heart exploding."

"Yes, and the…crackhead as well. But now, we have children to use. The Cleaners finally came through this time around."

"Could you go over why children should work instead of the rest?"

"Because their bodies are still growing; still developing; still building new structures. Their brains are not yet fully formed and still generating new neural pathways."

"So brining them back to life should be easier since their body is, in theory, still trying to rebuild itself?"

"Exactly, you're learning well. I have great hope for these two; I think we have real winners here." The Doctor said as he admired The Apparatus; a machine that he had built himself, it took up the entirety of the room. Two tanks filled with a fluorescent blue fluid occupied the middle of the machinery that was pumping the fluid through the tubes implanted into the bodies of the subjects. After checking that all systems were operating smoothly, The Doctor set the machine to run on auto.

"I think we can call it a day." The Doctor packed up his notes in his briefcase and snapped it closed. "Let's lock up." The Doctor and The Intern shut down the lights, armed the security system and walked out the only door. The front of their lab was disguised as a radio and TV repair shop that was always having a closing sale. Labs like these were all over Roanapur. There were dentists, surgeons, general practitioners, places that specialized in illegal organ transplants and stealing those organs from donors willing or otherwise. There were also the labs like the one funded by The Benefactor that conducted research and experiments which would make an inspectors head spin. Down the street from this lab was another that was trying to splice severed limbs onto other bodies, one across town was working on implanting mind control chips into brains. They were having limited success with the rats and dogs but still had human test subjects dying and turning into vegetables. It wasn't an issue though as long as The Cleaners continued to bring in fresh bodies from the streets.

"Well, shall we meet up monthly to check on their progress?" The Doctor asked The Intern.

"Sounds good to me. I'll be on break from school then." The Intern hopped on his motorcycle and fired up the engine. "See you in a month doc."

. . .

"Well, ready to start it up?" The Intern asked, looking over the instrument panels. "I think we're ready to give it a go."

"You are correct. It's been a year now, their bodies are responding well to the treatments." The Doctor walked around the back of the tanks and looked at the back of the girl's head. "Her wound seems to have finally healed and quite nicely." He nodded to The Intern. "Start the machine's final phase." The Intern pressed a few buttons and The Apparatus hummed as it started up. Chemicals were pumped through the hoses and into the subject's bodies; the fluorescent fluid was circulated through the tanks at an accelerated rate. After the process was completed, The Intern pressed another button and the fluid began to drain from the tanks. The Doctor brought over two gurneys and several other machines in the next room and readied them for the subjects.

"Are we ready?"

"Yes Doctor, the machine has run its cycle. I'll bring them out now." The Intern unlocked the tanks from their mounting brackets and then rotated them around their swivels so the tanks were level. He then wheeled them into the next room where the new life support systems were prepped. The Doctor and The Intern slid back the front panels of the tanks and lifted the bodies onto the gurneys. They opened the subject's chests and hooked up their hearts to machines that would pump their hearts for them, another to start pumping air into their lungs; started IV's to start replacing the fluorescent fluid with blood and so on.

"And now…we wait." The Doctor said, switching on the life support machines. "The chemicals should be doing their work restarting the brain. If this round of tests doesn't work, we'll just end up with vegetables…again."

"Should we come back in an hour and see how they're doing? The China Bowls at the Kao Khan always sell out early, if we hurry now we can make it." The Intern suggested.

"That sounds good to me." The Doctor said as he shut down the lights and armed the security system. "We shouldn't have to worry about the subjects. It's not like they're going anywhere."

. . .

"Ohhhhhh…kaayyyy….let's see if she'll be ah good girl 'n' turn over fer me." I pushed the starter fer Engine Number 3. There was ah clunk as the starter engaged an' ah mechanical whine as the prop began to turn. _Chug!…Chug!...Chug!..._come on_…Chug!...chug,chug,chug…_come on yah useless, rusty piece ah junk_...chug,chugchugchug, ch-ch-ch! Whhaaaoommmmm!_

"And we have power! There's ah good girl. Startin' up Number 4!"

The rest of Lagoon Comp'ny was on board an' seated into their positions 'round the plane. Rock was up front in the nose, Benny was seated behind him an' below mah feet to work the radio an' radar, Dutch was alternatin' between the top turret an' the copilot seat an' Revy was sulkin' in the rear tail turret. She was hung over an' in ah horrid mood. I'd told her to pipe down or I'd cram her in the ball turret fer the rest of the trip. There wasn't any risk of gitting' shot at on this flight, but I figgered it'd be nice to at least get everyone familiar with tha diff'rent positions 'round tha ' if there was an attack on us it wouldn' be too serious. I mean, if it were ah helicopter chasin' us, I could jest high-tail it outta there. If it was another plane against us, well, I had ten fifty caliber "Fuck-Off's" on board, so our bases were covered.

"Country, I've been meaning to ask you something." Rock buzzed in over tha intercom.

"What's on yer mind buddy?"

"Where did you learn to fly anyway? You didn't exactly mention that in your story at The Flag." How very astute of you Rock, tha's an excellent question. See, told ya he pays attention.

"Oh yeah, Ah plum fergot to mention it. Now, lemme see…Ah-ha! I remember now. One of tha militia commanders made his livin' flyin' crop dusters. He had two of them, an' then he had two 'fun planes', ah Piper Arrow an' Seminole…which now that I think about it, 'splains his larceny and embezzlement charges. There was no way in hell he could-ah bought all them planes otherwise." I paused fer a moment to think about that an' wondered what other shenanigans had been pulled that I hadn' picked up on. Eh, I decided it wadn't worth tha brain power.

"Anyhow, when I was still ah new member, they were all tryin' to make sure I stayed 'round 'cause they had ah lot of guys that'd join up an' then drift back out. You know, people who wasn't eatin' their shit sandwich. So when I told one of 'em I was real interested in airplanes an' always had wanted to try my hand at flyin', tha man made sure to offer me lessons. He started me off on tha Arrow fer a while, then I got to fly tha Seminole an' that's where I learned multi-engines. Best day though was when he let me fly one of tha crop dusters."

"I'll be that was fun."

"Oh hell yeah it was. I got it up to altitude an' put it through some rolls and loops, jest havin' fun with it. I was outta high school by then an' flew over tha school…and saw that the football team was practicin'. So, I dropped down to treetop level an' buzzed tha field ah few times. Laughed tha whole time right up until I landed an' tha cops were waitin' fer me."

"They probably mentioned something about minimum flight altitude?"

"That they did. It didn' help any that I was flying without ah license."

"So why did you get into flying anyway?"

"Tryin' to git tha hell out of tha Boonies. Like Ah said, Ah lived on a dirt road ten miles outta town an' there ain' ah whole lot to do in that town anyhow. See, my state is one of them fly-over states so Ah saw a lot of vapor trails. Ah was always lookin' up at the planes crossin' over an' always wonderin' where they was goin'…who was on 'em…where they was comin' from. I'd read all 'bout the Wright brothers, tha pilots in World War Two, an' 'bout all tha astronauts goin' to tha Moon. Think about it from my perspective: Tha fastest plane I'd ever seen up close was tha Seminole, it could do 230 mile an' hour an' then I read there was planes that could go three, four times faster than sound. Can you imagine it? Ah couldn' even wrap mah brain 'round that…faster than…sound? That was Superman type stuff to me…an' that sounded pretty damn cool. Ah figgerd that flyin', yah know, bein' ah pilot an all, could git me out of that borin' old town an' go to places Ah'd read 'bout. London, Singapore, Tokyo, Rio, Casablanca…yah know, tha world. Yah can' do that when yer workin' twelve hour days drivin' a bulldozer an' breakin' rocks with ah hammer fer a livin."

"I suppose you can't." Rock agreed. "So now that you have gotten a chance to fly around the world, what do you think of it?"

"Uh, well, Ah almost died tryin' to fly this thing here. It's not ah forgivin' craft if you don' know what yer doin'. First time flyin' ah four engine plane an' everythin' certainly has a steep learnin' curve. So Ah got off to ah rough start, nearly crashed on my landing in Canada. But, it's been purdy int'restin' so far. The world is ah lot bigger than I could have even imagined an'…it feels strange tah say this…but, Ah'm glad Ah left. This world we're livin' on is too big an' full of too many in'trestin' people an' places to spend mah life bein' born an' dyin' in tha same town, havin' never left."

"That's a pretty cool way to think about it." Dutch said as he swung down from the top roof turret. "It's a good attitude for someone on their first adventure out of their homeland." He sat down in the copilot's seat and scanned the instrument panel. "How's the plane doing? Engine Three was giving you trouble."

"Best Ah can figger, we're runnin' smooth as silk, Ah'm purdy glad Ah got that intake fixed. I gotta say though, can' believe we're goin' to this island off Guam" I had ah map spread over my lap as we cruised over the ocean. "Sure is an awful long way an' another place Ah'd never thought I'd see. Reckon it'd take ah week or so fer The Black Lagoon to make tha trip?"

"That's right. This had to be a one-day special delivery for Hotel Moscow." Dutch was up on tha flight deck, then sitting in the copilot's seat again an' fidgitin' uncomfortably tha whole time; I guess someone else bein' at the controls was ah new an' uneasy experience fer him an' especially on his first flight in tha B-24.

"So what're we haulin' anyway that needs rush delivered?"

"Well there's the usual, a few crates of guns, some drugs from the farms in-land but our big item is organs."

"Organs?"

"Human and animal organs." Dutch was talkin' 'bout the boxes stacked in the bomb bay an' tail of the plane. All were on ice an' some were even refrigerated with their own battery an' miniature cooling unit. "There's hearts, livers, kidneys, eyes, lungs and all sorts of other stuff in there. The organ market is exploding, especially in the States because of the waiting lists and costs the hospitals charge. People on our side get them from donors…willing or otherwise, and sell them around the world."

"Yeah Country" Revy chimed in over the intercom. "You'd be surprised what some schlub will pay for a new kidney or heart after their second by-pass. When your options are down to dyin' or getting some little 12-year old's kidney from Laos…you tend to do that math pretty quickly and not ask too many questions."

"But since when does Hotel Moscow deal in organs? A little outside their usual mantra." Benny asked.

"Ah can answer that." I announced. "Since it became ah profitable venture. Mobsters or not, Hotel Moscow is a business, jest like Bass Pro or Victoria Secret, maybe with ah subtler marketin' campaign. Their goal is tah make money an' now organs has joined tha list that helps doin' that."

"I wonder where all the organs come from though." Rock said, probably starin' wistfully out the Plexiglas nose at the ocean.

"Dunno…don't care." Was the response from the tail of the plane. "I'd imagine Sawyer the Cleaner keeps everyone's freezers well stocked. You know; that whole saying about Waste Not, Want Not." The plane grew very quiet with the only sounds bein' the gentle dronin' of the engines an' the whistle of wind through mah open windah. I wondered if these attacks of conscience happened often at Lagoon Company.

"Probably more offen than ya think buddy." I thought to myself. "They's all jest humans at heart after all."

. . .

We made good time to…oh, what was it called? I can't rightly remember the island's name, but it was jest south of Guam. Little bitty speck, looked like ah dark spot on the ocean until Benny confirmed it was our destination. Their runway wasn' anythin' fancy, jest ah wide, flat, smooth an' mowed strip of grass that tapered off onto the white sands of the beach. But the main thing was they had ah fuel station an' town nearby an' that was good 'nuff fer me. However, there was ah bit of ah hold-up.

"What do you mean you can't pay us?!" Revy looked fit tah bustin', ah vein across her temple was the flashing alarm. "We just flew like 3,000 miles to get here…and you're telling me you have no cash?!"

"The place we were laundering and storing most of our money burned down last night, you can still see the smoke from here. That fire took seventy five percent of our cash with it." The man at the airfield told us. I'll call him Fedora fer reasons that ought tah be obvious. Slick was his buddy. Slick's hair was gelled back, greased up like he was ah used car or snake oil salesman.

"Ah s'pose it'd be ignorant of me tah ask if they could cut us ah check? We prob'ly don' take none of that plastic money do we?" I asked Dutch. He shook his head, annoyed at the misfortunes of Slick an' Fedora. Fuel ain't cheap yah know.

"Well someone has to pay for all of this." Rock said, showin' Fedora an' Slick the invoice of all the organs, currently sittin' in ah reefer truck next to the plane. "We can't just put it all back on the plane and fly home, they'll all go bad. We can't sit around and wait for you; we have other jobs to do." Rock was tryin' to broker ah solution fer us so we didn' git bent over ah barrel an' Hotel Moscow wouldn't haff tah put these guys balls in ah vice. Despite his best efforts, nothinn' seemed tah be comin' to mind.

"Hey Rock, Ah think Ah got an idea." Everyone looked at me like I was gonna pull some magical rabbit outta my ballcap. "You fellas have ah warehouse right?" I asked Slick an' Fedora. "All yer trappin's an' what-nots?"

"Hey man, what's it to you?" Slick asked. Rude little vermin ain't yah?

"Well, Ah see a few options here. Seein' ya ain't got cash…check or credit ain't gonna cut it an' we can' twiddle our thumbs…we really don' want to call Hotel Moscow…all that's left is we take our pay outta yer inventory to cover tha difference." I paused fer moment, the secret tah marketin' is TIMIN'. "Less of course you'd rather call Miss Balalaika herself an' explain how an' why yer holdin' her couriers over ah barrel…" Fedora an' Slick turned paler than ah Ginger Eskimo at the thought.

"Alright, I'll make some phone calls." Fedora said. "We'll have a car brought up in a few minutes."

. . .

The warehouse was immense, crammed to the rafters with any imaginable manner of items. Anything and everything that could be sold on the Black Market was there. Guns, weapons, explosives and those sorts were the most obvious but it was the other items that made it interesting. Bootlegged DVD's and CD's and movies ripped off from Hollywood were in boxes by the hundreds. Medical supplies like IV stands, stethoscopes, syringes, bone saws, gurneys and complete surgeon kits occupied an entire row of shelves, floor to ceiling. Burn phones in their five count clamshell packaging got an entire thirty foot set of shelves alone. Computer software programs and not just the coveted hacking/spam/spy/malware but also programs like Windows Office and Powerpoint. There were even a few vacuum sealed clear tubs that were full of human hair of all styles and colors for making wigs and toupees.

Lagoon learned from Fedora that his organization was a wholesaler of sorts, a distributor so-to-speak. He also told Lagoon that they were allowed any one crate and their pay would be whatever they could fit inside it. Revy instantly gravitated towards the racks of assault rifles. There were H&K's from Germany, SIGs and Steyrs from Austria, FAL's from Belgium, M16's from the States, AK's from the world over and even row upon row of World War Two era bolt action guns and M1 Garands. Dutch and Benny were digging through the electronics section, going on about some new radar jammer countermeasures. Rock had found a section of all things, books. He was sitting on the floor surrounded by stacks of them, his nose buried in a novel. Country however, was wandering aimlessly and said he was 'lookin' fer nothin in par-tick-ular'. He said it was 'windah shopping fer whatever looks good.' He came to a stop in from of an old wooden crate half covered by a faded green tarp and fully covered in an inch of dust. It was huge, twenty feet by twenty feet by forty feet.

"What's in this one here?" He asked Slick, ball-cap tilted back and tapping the side of the crate with his boot, listening for an echo.

"No idea. It was here when we got the place. We never bothered to open it up and figure out what it was."

"Really now?" Country's eyes were shining with excitement and his broad grin changed to a sly smile. "Benny, be ah friend an' hand me that crank drill on tha table there would ya?" _Clank!_ Country stabbed the side of the crate to start the bit and began drilling, leaning on the drill to speed it up. He broke through and tossed the drill aside.

"Hey Slick," Country held out his hand as he peered through the hole "Ya gotta flashlight tah loan me?" Slick slapped one on Country's palm and Country peered into the dark crate, his eye rolling around as he surveyed the contents.

"Y'all gotta truck to git this outta here an' down to tha docks right?"

"Oh yes. We hauled a tank out of here the other week. Not easy to hide, but doable. What's in there?"

"Oh, jest ah few odds 'n' ends, various an' sundry items." Country said, his face looking more like a fox sizing up a hen house by the minute.

"Hang on a second; I don't think you can have this one."

"Say what now?" Country turned to face Slick with his left hand resting on his gun belt, just above his hunting knife. "You ain't tryin' to back out on me is yah?"

"Well that's a huge crate and we don't know what's in there…."

"Ah recall you sayin' that we could have any one crate and whatever we could fit inside of it." He knocked the side of the crate with his boot. "This is mah crate an' this is what Ah wan' in it."

"What's in it?"

"Don' matter, you said whatever we could fit in it…" Country said with a smile that was pure mischief and a twinkle in his green-brown eyes. "An' besides, where Ah come from, a man's gotta stick by tha promises that he makes. Man's only good as his word…so what's that say 'bout you sir?" Slick looked over at Fedora for guidance but was only given a look as confused as his.

"…All right then. Take it and get going before we change our minds." Slick wasn't the confrontational type or in the mood to argue with big and tall Country; especially with that revolver and hunting knife hanging from his gun-belt or the rest of Lagoon standing behind him.  
"Oh, jest hearin' that makes me so damn happy!" Country stuck out his hand and shook Slick and Fedora's hands like he was trying to rattle their arms off at the shoulder.

"Been ah real pleasure doin' business with you gennellmen." Country lead everyone back outside and started walking towards town. "Well, let's go git somethin' to eat, mah stomach's makin' noises."

Dutch stopped and looked back at Slick and Fedora. "Hey, we'll be back in a bit. We can count on seeing all of our crates on a truck and headed for the airfield right?"

"Sure, sure." Fedora said.

"Oh, and be sure to put Country's on a ship heading out tonight." He smiled as Fedora and Slick turned pale and shook as they were stared down by Lagoon.

"Won't be a problem." Fedora watched Lagoon Company walk away, wondering just who those people thought they were. He didn't realize just how close he'd come to having their pay taken out of his behind.

"Oh…it's ah good day tah be alive!" Country said; looking like Christmas had come early.

"Country, what was in that crate?" Rock asked.

"Somethin' very, very, very….very. Cool." Country evaded. "You'll jest have tah wait fer tha boat tah ship it in an' find out. Now, please tell me this island has a place that makes burgers…"

. . .

"Hey, I'm going to the store, do you want me to pick anything up?" The Doctor asked as he threw on his coat. It was the first storm of the Wet Monsoon and it was raining heavily in Roanapur.

"Yeah, sure. I don't care what though, whatever you get I guess." The Intern said as he checked the subject's vitals.

"Okay, I'll be right back." The Doctor headed outside and into the storm. It had been about a year since they had received the two children subjects and started the trials. It had been going well with the new subjects; their bodies had been recovering well. Their wounds had healed incredibly quickly. The hole in the girl's skull had been repaired and there had been surprisingly little damage to her brain. The boy's knee and arm were repaired; his hand had been hanging by a thread when he'd been brought in. He would have trouble walking on his right leg for the rest of his life as the knee was almost pure scar tissue. The main issue at hand though was that they still were comatose and had yet to show any sign of waking up anytime soon. The Intern decided he was going brave the rain so he could have a cigarette. The Doctor would have never approved so The Intern always had to wait for The Doctor to leave so he could light up. He walked outside, standing under the awning of the front door as he greedily pulled on his cigarette. He tossed the dog-end into the street and was about to head back inside when his phone went off; it was his girlfriend back at school calling him.

"Hey baby, what's up?" He asked, leaning against the front door as he lit another cigarette.

Inside, the girl woke up first. Her eyes fluttered open and her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out where she was. It was a brightly lit room that looked like a hospital but the doors to her left lead out to an empty store front. She struggled to sit up; her muscles had atrophied after a year of being sedentary. With great effort, she managed to sit up and got a better look around.

"F…fra…" She started to try and talk but couldn't make her tongue work quite right. She could see her brother lying on the next bed, he still was sleeping. She slipped off the gurney and collapsed to the floor, ripping out the IV and other monitors. Crying with the pain, she lay on the floor and kept trying to haul herself up again. She could see her brother's hand on the edge of his bed and she reached out to take his hand in hers.

"Fratele…" She tried to speak again but still was having trouble speaking. "Fratele meu…" She whispered, clinging to his hand as tightly as she could. She was about to loose her grip when his hand came to life and clasped around hers. It was quite for a minute and then he found his voice.

"Sora mea…is…that you?"

"Yes."

"Where…are we?"

"I don't know." She looked around the room, her face fraught with fear. "It scares me though, I don't like it."

"Should we try to leave?"

"I think so. Who knows what the people might do to us when they come back."

"You'll have to help me walk. I can't move my leg so well." She managed to stagger to her feet and helped him get loose from the instruments. They began shuffling to the door, one sibling leaning on the other and limping on one leg.

"Hey listen, I have to go." The Intern said as he was winding down his talk with his girlfriend.

"Are you sure?" She pouted over the phone.

"Yeah, I'm working, sorry. Oh, crap. It's my boss paging me. I'll call you right back. Hello Doctor."

"I just got a call from our Benefactor. He wants to come down and see our facility. Do you think you could run down to the Sam Pam Palace and meet him there? I'd do it myself, but I'm stuck in traffic. There's been an accident and it's backed up for at least a mile."

"Sure thing, no problem. Will you be back by the time I am? I don't want to deal with him myself any longer than I have to."

"I will be there, I assure you. See you soon." The Doctor hung up and The Intern groaned. He was going to be getting his ear chewed off for the next hour at least by The Benefactor who talked just to hear his own voice. The Intern hopped into the car he had bought with his generous salary and headed off for the hotel. In his haste, he had forgotten to arm the security system.

"I assure you, the process is most remarkable!" The Doctor said as he escorted The Benefactor inside. "We have made excellent progress and I think we've got it this time! All that will be left to do is replicate the process for yourself and death will no longer be a specter to haunt your dreams."

"I'll believe it when I see it." The Benefactor hobbled inside on his cane, bent almost in half with stubbornness, old age and just being dragged down by his own soul. "Your lab isn't so bad. Could use a better front but I'm not interested in cosmetics as long as my money is well spent. Let's see these two children you keep going on about." He opened the double doors to the recovery ward and only saw two beds, a few powered down machines with their cables askew and a few spatters of blood on the floor.

"Is this it?" He asked The Doctor.

"Wha…what?! No…no, no, nononono!" The Doctor was on the verge of panic. Ten years of work were going up in smoke before his eyes, he was finished, ruined, done for.

"Doctor, what's the problem?" The Intern asked. He couldn't see into the room through The Doctor and The Benefactor. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes there is a huge problem…" The Doctor said quietly. "Our test subjects…they're gone."

. . .

The Twins stumbled through the rain as fast as their weakened legs could carry them, barefoot and soaked to the bone. They knew their best chance was to get away from the lab as fast as possible.

"So it seems I was right." The brother said as he limped along. "We really can't die after all."

"Fratele meu you're being foolish. We were just extremely lucky." She said.

"What?" He stopped, unsure what he was hearing from his sister.

"We did die and we were brought back as someone's lab rats."

"So what? It doesn't change anything. We can just go back to the way things were, just us killing as we like."

"No." She said firmly.

"Sora mea, what's wrong with you?...I…don't, what're you saying?"

"I don't want to do it anymore." They sat down in a bus stop out of the rain, their legs wobbly from walking. "While we were in that place, I dreamed a lot."

"About what?"

"Well, after we split up, I met this really nice Japanese businessman. He and his company tried to help me escape. He was different than the rest of the people in Roanapur, he had a good heart."

"What made him different?"

"He told me there was more to life; that we had the ability to change, if we wanted."

"You didn't actually believe him? That we could lead a normal life?"

"Why not? Don't you think we should at least try?"

"But…I thought we could pick up where we left off, like we had agreed."

"And then what?!" She nearly yelled. "End up dead again? I don't know what you dreamed about but I have realized all we have gotten is nowhere!" She was on the verge of crying, her eyes welling up with tears. "Why can't you see that? Are we any better off than the orphanage, better off than when we arrived in Roanapur?" She started sobbing, tears beginning to roll down her face. Her brother was terribly confused; he'd never seen his sister so conflicted like this and then her talk of…stopping?

"Sora mea, you're not well, you aren't making any sense."

"I am, perfectly well!" She said, taking her brother's head in her hands. "I just can't get his words out of my head. For months I have heard them, over and over in my mind!"

"What did he say, exactly?"

"He said the world exists to bring us happiness. Blood and darkness are only a tiny fragment, not everything…and I believe he was right." The brother sat for a minute, thinking over those words. He was having trouble understanding the full potential of Rock's message. His thoughts were still clouded by 13 years of fear, paranoia, suffering and blood. It had seeped into every fiber of his being, a poison that had broken his soul and darkened his mind…except for one small corner. One small candle in a world of darkness and that was his love for his sister. Even though he couldn't quite understand what she was trying to tell him, his heart ached to see her crying like this. He hugged her tightly as she cried, her tears soaking into his hospital gown.

"I don't understand." He said slowly, softly stroking his sister's hair. "I don't think it's possible, us living a normal life."

"Can't we at least try?! She sobbed. "What do we have to lose?" She sat up and took several shuddering breaths. "I know it seems like a dream, but what else do we have?" She asked her brother. "Is it too much to ask of the world for us to be happy, to have someone that cares about us?!" Her brother sat quietly, watching the rain drip down the glass front of the bus stop. He hadn't spent the past few months dreaming of a better life but instead his had been filled with nightmares. He'd been reliving nights spent crying himself to sleep after being beaten black and blue and waking up only to run that gauntlet again. It had only added another layer of blind hatred against the world.

But, that small candle for his sister still burned in the back of his mind and that was enough. He pulled his sister close to him, holding her in his arms. She wiped her face with her sleeve, waiting for his answer. He was unsure what to say, he didn't quite believe Rock's words. But he looked over at his sister, her eyes red from crying, snot starting to dribble from her nose that she was too distraught to even brush away, and her sadness pulled at his heart. He didn't believe that a normal life was possible, especially not after all the suffering they had endured. But for his sister's sake, he decided that he would follow her, even if he believed it to be folly.

"Sora mea, I don't think it is possible." She sat up, looking at him with hurt in her eyes, wondering why he didn't understand. "But, in whatever you decide to do, I will not abandon you."

. . .

"You. Idiot. You got another plane?!" Revy asked; amazed at what she viewed as a severe lack of foresight on Country's part.

"Yep! An' it'll be ah real beauty, once it's together an' everythang." Lagoon Company was at the airfield as they had agreed to help Country offload the crate from the freighter. It was huge, twenty by twenty by forty and it was HEAVY. Once the mobile crane had gotten it off the truck, Country attacked with a crowbar. He forced apart nails cemented in place by thirty plus years of rust and neglect. With the nails pulled, the front panel fell forward and landed on the hangar floor with a crash and cloud of dust. Inside, the first thing everyone noticed was the massive 13 foot diameter, four bladed propeller still in its shipping brace; covered in dust.

"Oh, ain't this excitin'?! Ah ain' had this much fun since Ah went to mah first NASCAR race!" Country said, standing in front of the crate full of airplane parts. "Imagine what it'll look like when it's all together!"

"Country, I think you've cracked." Dutch laughed, remembering he had the exact same expression when he first took the controls of the Black Lagoon. "But, it's your pay, so make good use of it."

"Do you even know how to put together a plane?" Revy asked, lifting one of the tarps covering a wing inside the crate. "I think you're in over your head."

"Well…uh…yeah, Ah may be." Country admitted as he opened up a packet attached to the inside of the crate wall, dated 1944. "But Ah'm sure I'll figger it out. Gimme enough time an' Ah'll git 'er put together. Hey Benny?"

"Yeah?"

"Reckon Ah can borrow yer computer an' do some readin' on this plane, maybe figger out how tah start puttin' it together?"

"Not. A. Chance."

"Oh c'mon, help ah friend out would'ja?"

"Nuh-uh-uh. My machines are very sensitive and only respond to me." Benny folded his arms and looked smugly at Country.

"Oh yeah? That so?" Country folded his arms too, clearly annoyed with Benny's stubborn lack of assistance. "Well yer momma only responded to me." He jibed at Benny who turned as red as his Hawaiian shirt.

"You take that back! My mom was a nice lady!"

"Lemme think about it...no."

"Then there's not ah chance in hell I'll let you use it now."

"Hey, Tweedle-Dee an' Tweedle-fuckin'-Dumb." Revy said, stopping the argument. "For Christ's sake, are we just going to stand here and listen to you two bitch like a couple of old biddy's or can we go get plastered and celebrate the job we did today?" Country looked at the packet in his hand, back at the parts of the plane and tossed the packet onto a workbench.

"Eh, fuck it. Ah'm sorry Benny. Ah'll git yer first round."

"It's fine. What about the plane though?"

"Eh, it'll be here when Ah git back. Ah'll start on it tonight." Lagoon piled into the GTO and headed just down the road for The Yellow Flag. They made it just in time as the sky began to turn dark with thunder and rain. Dutch said it was the first storm of the Wet Monsoon. It looked like 'Ah real cat 'n' dog storm' as Country put it and he remarked he 'Didn' envy anyone who'd hafta walk through it'.

. . .

The road had turned from pavement to gravel and the rocks cut their feet as the two children walked out of the city. They had found some clothes in a trashcan along the way that were five sizes too big but it was better than hospital gowns. They stumbled along the road in near total darkness, shivering from the cold. They looked at each other and decided that they should go back for the rest of the night and try again when the storm had settled. But then, they heard music. It was faint, just floating on the tail end of the wind. They followed the sound, not seeing the closed and shuttered Yellow Flag as they passed within fifty yards of the parking lot.

The music was louder, a strange accent and an instrument that they had never heard before. It was the drawl of John Fogerty and the sounds of Creedence Clearwater Revival, coming from up around the bend. They turned off the main road and walked down a muddy two-track to a chain-link fence and gate with a faded sign. The only legible words were "Roanapur Military Airport". They could see down the runway a large hangar with its front doors open and light shining forth from inside it like a beacon. They could make out the words of the singer now and heard, for the first time in their lives, a saxophone play.

_Put a candle in the window… 'Cause I feel I've gotta move…Though I'm goin', goin'…I'll be comin' home soon …Long as I can see the light._

Pack my bag and let's get moving …'Cause I'm bound to drift awhile…Though I'm gone, gone…You don't have to worry…Long as I can see the light. 

The Twins slipped under the gate and began walking down the runway. Drawn to the music and light, they stumbled along over the broken chunks of made it to the side door of the hangar and could hear someone working inside, talking to themselves and singing along with the radio as they went.

"Now, why in tarnation won' this darn part fit? It says here on tha manual tah take part B6 an' attach it tah part Z11…wait, is that ah Z er ah 2? Damn it all, have Ah been doin' this wrong tha whole time? Shoot…guess Ah'll take this one apart 'n' start over." There was the sound of a pneumatic wrench and a clang as something dropped onto the floor.

"OW! Oo that smarts! Ah didn' break any toes did Ah? Thank God fer steel-toes…man, Ah knew Ah should've paid more 'tention in shop class." The Twins both tentatively raised their fists and knocked on the door. They knew they were taking a huge risk; there was no telling what kind of person would answer the door. But it was dark, they were wet, hungry cold and lost and didn't have much choice. The first knock went unheard so they knocked again, and then the noises inside stopped. Suddenly the door flew back and a tall man appeared in its place, a large revolver in his right hand and a long hunting knife in the other.

"If yer from Mister Lin Ah swear Ah'm gonna…oh. Mah 'pologies." He eased back the hammer of the revolver, holstered it and slipped the knife back into its sheath. He knelt down to look at the Twins face to face, his teeth and eyes shining from behind the oil and grease splattered across his face. He looked friendly to them, his smile was honest and goofy enough to make them feel a little at ease. That and his curly hair looked funny to them, the way it stuck out from under his hat. He scratched at his beard as he looked at them, seeming like he was trying to guess their thoughts.

"W'all, what's tha big idea? Two young-uns like yerselves out on ah night like tonight? Where's yer momma an' poppa?" He asked, causing them to look at him with bewilderment, they'd never heard an accent like his before. He looked at both of them and could see their confusion. "What're yer names, wait, yah do speak English right?"

"Yes…we do." The girl said nervously.

"W'all tha's good. So what're yer names?"

"H…Hansel and Gretel." Hansel stammered, his teeth chattering behind lips that were turning blue.

"Really? Well how 'bout that? Yer like the little ones in tha fairy tale. But where's home, where's yer parents? Are yah lost?"

"We…don't have any. We don't have a home or parents. Please, we're very lost and don't know where we're even going. Can you help us?"

"Hmm…" The man looked at both of them for what seemed like a full minute, then glanced back over his shoulder at the pile of machinery, parts and tools scattered around the hangar.

"Ahhh, tah hell with it fer tonight. Ain' makin' any headway anyhow." He muttered to himself. He stood up and pushed a button to close the main hangar doors, turned off the radio playing on the work bench and switched off the lights. He stepped outside and locked the hangar side door. Then, he held out a hand to each child.

"W'all c'mon up to tha house. Let's getcha dried off an' outta tha cold." They hesitated to take his hand; it was such an uncommon gesture to them that they didn't quite know what to make of it and were immediately suspicious. "C'mon now, don' be shy. Ah ain' gonna hurt yah." Slowly, Hansel and Gretel took his hands and he walked them to the house.

. . .

With the arrival of the Wet Monsoon Season came two main effects: A torrential downpour of rain and a major slowdown of business for Lagoon Company. People were less willing to ship their goods when the rivers were roiling, roads were washed out and the seas were ravaged by typhoons.

During the first two weeks of rain, Country all but disappeared from anywhere he was usually seen around town, including The Yellow Flag. He spent most of his time in the hangar, making improvements to the B-24, putting together the plane he'd brought back from Guam and beginning to renovate the airfield. By himself, the airfield would be an impossible task but more often than not he enlisted the help of his fellow sailors from Lagoon…provided he paid them of course.

During one of the rainy days, Country had hired out Rock and Revy to start cleaning out one of the old officer's barracks. Initially Revy had refused but changed her tune when Country offered her half of whatever she and Rock found inside. To sweeten the deal, he even said she got dibs. Rock wasn't enthralled about rooting through someone's footlockers, but it beat sitting in the office waiting for the phone to ring as rain drummed on the roof. That and he got to spend some time with Revy, so there was that.

"I sure hope they left some good stuff behind." Revy said as she worked on the lock. This barracks building was just an old Quonset hut of corrugated metal. God alone knew what could be in there. "It would be a real downer if all that's left is a sack of sappy Dear John love letters and crusty socks." _Ping!_ The lock snapped open and they were in. The building was dark and musty, the air tasted stale and made Rock's eyes sting. He forced open a few of the windows to let in some light and let the place vent out.

This building wasn't too bad so far, Rock observed. It certainly wasn't as bad as the last two they cleared. There wasn't a leak in the ceiling that had allowed water in so that mold could fester and grow unchecked for twenty plus years. If you looked at it right, you'd have sworn it was breathing. The other housed a warren of gigantic, temperamental rats that Revy sent scurrying with a barrage of bullets. They'd eventually burned those two barracks down; Country had made the call on that. He'd simply said "Kill it with fire!" when he had taken a look for himself.

"Yo Rock! Get a move on. We're not getting paid by the hour; we're getting paid by the building so let's go." Revy sat down on the first cot and started on the footlocker next to it. "Hey, if the lockers are still good, we can sell them too. How about that, double the money!"

"Sure, sounds good." Rock wandered around, looking for something more obvious and started cleaning up some of the mess up. Stacks of old files, papers, memos, requests of transfer and supply, all went into the furnace Country used for heat at night and cooking out on their days off.

_Crack!_ Revy had gotten frustrated with one of the more stubborn locks and used a screwdriver to pry it off.

"Oops. We'll have to just write that one off." She laughed, tossing it into the trashcan. "Let's see…oh, damn. Freakin' letters." She pulled out a wad of yellowed envelopes and added it to the stack. Some of them looked like they'd been read, folded, read and refolded about a hundred times. Revy tossed the stack across the aisle to Rock.

"Here, you like all this sappy romance crap and sweet nothings." Rock started reading the letter off the top of the stack as Revy snarled at the next lock and began to try and force back the latch.

_Dearest Beloved, _(It read)

_Oh how it pains my heart to be separated from you, far away on this island. I wish that you could see it though, this tropical paradise that is Roanapur. Surely the muses that inspired the Ancient Greeks could not have imagined this place…_

"Even I'm not getting through that one." Rock thought as he tossed it into the trash. Talk about melodramatic. It was certainly from another time and era, especially if it referred to Roanapur as a paradise. Maybe the next one would be more interesting.

_To Nancy,_

_It's hard being away. I sure miss those nights in Black Moshannon, lying in the truck bed. Good times to be had huh? Oh, did you get the little outfit I ordered for you? You'll have to borrow your sister's camera and send me a picture of you in it so I'll have something to remember you better with. I can hardly wait for this tour to be over. I can still remember the smell of that perfume you like to wear, it sure drove me wild! Oh, the things we're going to do when I get back! How does this sound: We'll drive out to that little spot past Devil's Elbow, you remember the place, and we'll lay out beneath the stars and moon. We can be as loud as we want and won't have to worry about the neighbors blabbing to your momma again if we get to hollering like last time…_

"Well, this one's better than the last one at least. Maybe not as eloquent but at least more exciting." Rock thought. He turned the letter over to see if there was more on the back but it was blank. He picked up the envelope it came in but that was empty. Rock started to look through the pile of other letters but then he noticed something. Or, rather, the lack of something…noise. The barracks was awfully quiet, except for the rain pitter-pattering on the roof. Rock looked up from his lap and across the barracks, Revy was gone. "Where did she go now? Probably flaking off." Rock thought.

"Lookin' for this Rocky?" Rock felt a warm body press itself against his back and shoulders. A soft breath brushed against the nape of his neck, his hair stood on end and a voice whispered in his ear:

"I got what you're looking for." Revy's arms slid around his shoulders, crossing on his chest. In her right hand, neatly folded, was the other half of the letter. "I'll admit, I had a feeling there was a twisted side to you. Never imagined you'd be getting kicks from reading someone's smutty mail from the 50's. Any other little fantasies you want to tell me about?" She was pressing herself against him; he could feel her weight on his back, her firm breasts rubbing his shoulders. She rested her head on his right shoulder, he could feel her heart beat, hear her breathing softly on his ear. Her ponytail fell over his left shoulder and draped down his chest, he could even smell her now, a little bit of smoke, oil and gunpowder but something sweet too. It was rapidly becoming a sensory overload for Rock; this was the closest and most intimate contact he'd had with Revy yet. He struggled to keep composed; she'd make fun of him for sure if he lost his cool now. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her lips; slightly parted, soft and pink and just begging for attention.

"Revy…I…" Rock started, words getting stuck in his throat as he turned towards those lips, readying himself for whatever may come of his boldness…

"HA! Rock, you're too easy." Revy laughed and slapped the letter to his chest. As she stood up, her weight on his back lifted and her hair slipped slowly off his shoulder. "You should have seen your face, like a deer in the headlights." She laughed as she picked up a sack of loot she'd found in the barracks and slung it over her shoulder.

"Well c'mon Rock. That's enough for today. We'll come back later and finish what we started here."

"Yeah, be right there." Rock dropped the letters into the box and picked it up.

"Let's go find Country so I can get paid for playing janitor. Where'd that goof-ball Bumpkin get off to? He sure is acting weird lately."

Rock was still reeling from the last few minutes. He put his fingers to the artery in his neck and could feel his pulse hammering like he'd just sprinted a marathon. For the first time in as long as he could recall in a long time, Rock's mind was oddly blank. There were no thoughts about home, the Washimine girl, Gretel with blood pooling under her head, any other horrors of Roanapur…just…blank. Well, there was a thought bouncing around in there but it vanished when Rock stubbed his toe on a chunk of the runway. Distracted, the rest of the memories and the world came rushing back. Rock sighed and looked at the woman walking in front of him. As he did, Rock felt it down deep in his gut, there was that flutter again.

. . .

* * *

Alright. If you've gotten this far and your brain hasn't melted, congrats for toughing it out. I was trying to figure out how to split this into two chapters, but couldn't make it happen. Anyway, a few things:

I have read the manga and watched the anime and the death of Hansel and Gretel, for me anyway, was one of the saddest parts of the whole story. That's how you know it's good writing of course, when the storyteller can make you feel like you just got punched in the heart and that's exactly how I felt. To me, I felt like they were robbed of a chance to maybe, possibly, if the planets were properly aligned, have a good life and I debated with myself for a few days on if I should bring them back or not and how they would act if I did. Hopefully you won't rip me apart for it, but what's done is done.

Another, I had realized that Country had magically figured out how to fly a B-24J Bomber, which was notorious of having a steep learning curve. Hopefully that is properly dealt with. I was explaining it to a friend and likened it to an OC showing up in Dragon Ball Z and becoming a Saiyan in the first chapter.

Finally, for those of you who were secretly hoping that Rock steps up to the plate...stick around. ;)

Thank you for reading, this has been awesome...and now I'm going to go pass out.


	6. Chapter 6

Alright! It's been a few days since I had a chapter written and posted. I'm going to be having final exams next week for summer classes, I've been studying, my brain is going to be fried by this time next Friday. Anyway, here it is, hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Alright, remind me again why you had me buy a crate of matches?" Rock asked as he dropped the box on the office coffee table.

"Because, young grasshopper, it's ah cheaper an' much less suspicious way to make bombs." Country said as he ripped open the box and started to take out the matchboxes. "If we're bein' watched, an' we are, I gare-un-tee it, goin' to known suppliers of s'plosives sure'd set off some alarms with Lin's bunch, wouldn't ya say?"

"How do you know we're being watched?"

"Because these fools couldn' sneak up on ah possum nappin' 'longside tha road. Look out tha window, there's two of 'em cross tha street." Rock looked outside of Lagoon's office but didn't see anything out of the ordinary or unusual…except…

"Mah point exactly. Judgin' by yer look, you've spotted one. You can see him plain as day an' you ain't even trained in tha art of espionage."

"Yes, there's a man across the street in the alley. He's been there for quite a while, judging by all the cigarette butts around him."

"Good, good. Now, where's his buddy?"

"That I'm not sure. Are you sure there are two?"

"Always operate in ah pair if possible. See tha guy at tha bus stop? Tha one readin' tha paper? Ah could see someone like him goin' through tha funny pages, but tha Financial Section? Don' make me laugh."

"The one with the bald head, big shoulders, I see him now. No, he doesn't look like a stock trader to me."

"Sure's shootin' he ain't. Hey, wanna see somethin' that'll prove it fer sure?"

"What're you going to do?"

"Run to tha store fer ah minute, jest watch those two." Country walked downstairs, across the road, tipped his hat to the tri of prostitutes on the corner ("Always be polite to those less off than yerself" Country was always saying.) and started up the GTO. When that motor cranked over, the man with the paper folded it up, crossed his right leg over the left and tapped his foot with the paper. The alley man walked to a motorcycle and started it up. As Country pulled away, the motorcycle followed.

A few minutes later, Country was back and so was his tail. The tail had switched bikes somehow and changed his shirt, but it was still the same man none-the-less. Country walked over to the prostitutes, started talking to them, and pointed at the alley man. They hustled over and began fawning over the alley man. With the man distracted, Country kneeled and started fiddling with something on the bike. He stood and walked nonchalantly back to the office carrying several large paper bags.

"What did you do to the bike?" Rock asked as Country began unpacking the bags.

"You'll see in ah minute" Country glanced at his watch. "An'…here…we…go." Another bike pulled up, a new rider. The alley man got on his bike, started up and pulled away. He made it about fifty yards when his bike erupted in flames and then the fuel tank ruptured in a ball of fire and smoke. The rider was thrown from his bike and landed ass-first on the road. With his pants on fire and his hair catching, he took off running down the street, his three buddies following him.

Country laughed, leaning on the window jamb as he watched them run.

"Look-ee there buddy! Look at that little skunk run! Oh, tha shenanigans you can pull in this town…"

"What'd you do?"

"Snipped tha fuel line right 'bove the engine and plugged 'er up with some chewin' gum. Tha engine heats up tha gum, gum melts an' falls off, fuel leaks an' hits ah hot engine an' WHOOF!" Country raised his arms and laughed. "Little Two-Bit thug an' his put-along bike go up in smoke!"

"You learn that in militia training?" Rock asked quietly, watching the bike burn in the middle of the road.

"Now why you gotta start usin' that tone Rock? There's ah lovely hole in tha ground on top of tha hill if yer interested. That's where we're all headed if Lin gits his way…" The room grew close, the silence broken only by Revy snoring on the couch.

"I'm sorry, that's not how I meant that to come out. It's just…I'm still not used to doing things that you, Dutch and Revy do, the shooting and blowing stuff up. Even after all this time here."

"Don' worry 'bout it none. We had different upbringin's an' different pasts. Only natural there'd be ah difference in opinions. Jest keep what Ah told ya about findin' ah reason fer fightin' in mind an' you'll be fine." Country smirked when he saw Rock glance over at Revy snoozing on the couch. 'The boy sure has ah thing fer her' Country thought. "Now let's quit with this psych…moral compass…stuff. Git over here an' Ah'll show yah how to make ah pipe bomb."

To Rock's surprise, making bombs was actually…kind of fun. Well, fun in the way that running the risk of blowing your hands off is fun, but you get the idea. Country walked Rock through the process seeing he was an amateur.

First, you readied your vessel for the explosive. Country had a bag that clanked when he picked it up; it was full of cast iron elbow bend pipes. Each was about three inches in diameter and eight inches long overall. For each tube, a small hole was drilled in the bend. Rock wasn't surprised to hear that was the easy part.

"So, run the whole plan by me again one more time." Rock asked Country as he worked on his tenth box of matches.

"Well, Dutch has been sayin' he's tired of gittin' watched by Lin's men, waitin' 'round fer them to hit us. So he 'cided we're gonna take care of our pest problem ourselves. Balalaika, Chang, Ronnie tha Jaws or tha Columbians would take too long figgerin' out how tah fight Lin an' divvy up tha territory an' spoils. We're not in it fer any of that, just stayin' 'bove ground. Once Lin an' his merry hoods are gone, tha Big Four can beat tha hell outta each other over tha leftovers."

"Right…I recall that much. But, how do we actually do that? I'm not as knowledgeable on the actual tactics."

"Tha's easy. It's like huntin'. Figger out where the deer eat, sleep, fornicate an' hang out. They's creatures ah habit an' we humans ain't no different. Ah've done some scoutin', Dutch has too. We've found Lin has five offices here in town. So, we set ah couplah these at each office an' set 'em off at tha same time."

"Why at the same time?"

"W'all, think 'bout it. If we hit 'em at intervals, they might move 'round or worse, move on us. That an' we might miss people if they up an' leave when tha bombs go off. Best though is that it'll royally fuck wid their heads when all their offices go up in smoke at tha same time. Mister Lin'll either piss his pants or do somethin' real stupid an' tip his hand."

"And what do match heads have to do with all of this?" Rock asked as he clipped another matchstick.

"Everythin' man! Now, if yer Mister Lin an' hear-tell that Lagoon is goin' 'round town, buyin' up explosives…awful suspicious like wouldn't ya say? So we make our own. Now, put out that cigarette, no smokin' from here on out!"

Rock and Country continued to file off the match heads, putting the pieces into a large bowl. Revy woke up from her nap on the couch to help and so did Benny when he got back from his date with Jane; Country and Revy ragged on him for a good while about the hickeys on his neck. Next, Country brought out mortars and pestles to grind up the match heads into a fine powder. Then, he produced several sacks of sugar, "An imperative part to tha process is killin' them sweetly." They gently mixed the sugar into the match powder, one part sugar to four parts powder. Next, Country surprised everyone by producing from the last bag a box of Christmas lights.

"You got Christmas lights? Really? And here I was thinking you were some kind of expert…" Revy asked, not looking the least bit impressed.

"Hey, Ah learned how tah make bombs without 'real s'plosives okay? You figger outta way to build ah better bomb with stuff from tha hardware store. It's ah little hard tah git ahold of C4 in tha states, 'specially if the Feds are watchin' you. Now can yah help me start cuttin' lights?"

Each bomb took one light. The light was cut from the strand with three inches of wire left on each side. Country would heat up the end of the light and snip the glass off. The bulb was then put into the hole with the wires sticking out and secured in place with electrical tape. Next, to each bomb was taped a receiver from a programmable universal remote. Each remote had five receivers. Country wrote A, B, C, D, and E on each remote with a marker and A1, A2…B3, B4…E5 and so on for each receiver. Country said he didn't want to accidentally get Revy's bombs in case she got trigger happy. For each receiver there was a 9 volt battery taped and hooked up.

On each end of the pipes were threads for a screw-on cap. First a cap was screwed on one end. Then as slowly and carefully as possible, the match-sugar mixture was poured into the pipe. Country then had everyone wipe down the pipe threads and cap threads with a towel. Rock asked why and was told that the friction of metal on metal contact alone could set off the charge if there was any dust or residue on the threads. When asked how Country knew, he said that he'd 'ruined more 'n' one barn an' ah friends livin' room doin' amateur stuff like that.'

"Ah! Finally, all done." Rock said, collapsing into his chair. He swung his feet up to prop them on the table but accidentally brought them down on one of the remotes. There was an audible and unmistakable Click! As the button depressed. Rock, Revy and Benny flinched, fully expecting to become scattered bits on the wall. Country just started laughing.

"Why do yah thank Ah got tha ones that come with no batteries?" He asked, holding up a 30 pack of AA batteries. Revy wasn't so quick to forgive Rock though.

"What the hell is wrong with you Rock, ya damn klutz?! Are you tryin' to get all of us blown up?!" Revy yelled as she smacked Rock over the head with her fists.

"Sorry! Sorry!" He yelled, trying to fend her off.

"Sorry ain't gonna cut it! You'd better focus up tomorrow when we use these. I'm sure as hell not gonna scrape what's left of you off the ceiling when you blow up! You realize just how much trouble you'll make for me if you do that right?!"

"Hey, Ah made up one of these tha other day." Country interrupted, stopping the snarling from Revy. "Wanna see one in action?" Everyone piled into the GTO and headed off to the airfield. Dutch had been out for the day, he said he was keeping an eye out and gathering intel on Lin's men. So it was a surprise to see him at the main hangar, having a cigarette and staring off to the end of the runway. A motorcycle's red tail light was zipping down the runway and disappeared into the oncoming dusk.

"Who wuzz that Dutch?" Country asked as he unlocked the hangar. "Yer secret lover or something?"

"Didn't expect all of you to show up here." Dutch evaded.

"Well Dutch, Ah DO live out here. But whatever you wanna say…" Country rolled his eyes over at Revy, Rock and Benny. "Anyhow, we've got tha bombs fer tomorrow made up. Ah wanna demonstrate one fer everyone here." Country held out the prototype to Dutch.

"Hmmm…well done for something made at the hardware store. It isn't pretty but it'll sure go bang. Match head and sugar charge, Christmas bulb filament for heat, universal remote…I'd say your militia training wasn't wasted."

"Well thanks! Now, help me with this here dryer." Country was dragging an old top loading dryer out from the scrap heap between hangars. "Found it 'long side tha road wid ah 'Free' sign on it. Couldn' pass it up." Country plucked the bomb from Dutch's hands, laid it gently in the dryer and then slammed the lid closed behind it.

"Y'all gonna wanna back up."

With the dryer 100 yards away on the middle of the runway, Lagoon stood behind the safety of the hangar door. Each person picked their own window to watch through. Country held up the remote and pressed the 1 Button. Beep!...Beep!Beep! "Huh, damn it all. What tha hell is wrong with this stupid thing?" Beep! Beep!

"Way to freakin' go Bumpkin. Don't tell me all the bombs we spent all day making are duds." Revy said.

"Oh! Ah remember now! Ah accidentally dropped tha first receiver an' stepped on it…Ah had tah use tha Number 2 one. Mah bad." Country pressed the Number 2 button.

_PHhwwooooooooooommm!_ The dryer disintegrated. Chunks were flung in all directions, the hull burst open and some pieces of shrapnel even bounced off the hangar door.

"Wow…that was pretty cool." Rock spoke for everyone.

. . .

"Okay, so everyone remembers their targets?" Dutch asked. We were in the office downtown, gitting ready fer our strike on against Lin's operation in Roanapur.

"Yep. I have the office and any vehicles I can find by the market." Benny said.

"I hit the office along the main road." Revy said.

"I have the office along the road out to the Yellow Flag." Rock confirmed his assignment.

"Ah have tha main office on tha road down from tha Sam-Pam Palace Hotel." I had picked that one fer myself.

"And I have their boat pen and fuel pump down by the docks." Dutch said. He was certainly in ah good mood I noticed. Dutch had said that he wasn't goin' to wait 'round for Lin an' his boys tah make up their minds how they was gonna tackle us. 'Best defense is a good offense' he'd said. Must've bin readin' that worn copy of "The Art of War" again.

We all left the office at the same time, splittin' off in five directions. Benny hopped in the GTO an' thundered off. Dutch quietly slipped through alleys t'wards the docks where he wouldn't look outta place. Rock an' Revy headed off together but would split up later. My target was the closest but had the most eyes on it so I'd have to take the most time settin' up mah bombs.

. . .

For Benny, losing his tail in traffic was laughably easy. It was impressive that the car following him had kept up for long as it did through rush-hour traffic. But it couldn't compete with Benny when he jumped four lanes of traffic, hopped the curb and took the off-ramp. He smiled as he thought of the tail stuck on the highway out of town…for at least two hours if they were lucky.

Benny parked a block away and got out, carrying five small paper sacks. As Country had told him, he walked like he belonged. Not too overtly shady, looking around, or actin' like the local crack-heads scurrying around…but at the same time, not looking too damn happy with himself either.

The office was two-roomed and one story, an outpost in the market district. There was only one door, one window and two cars parked outside. Benny set #1 and #2 on the underside ridges of the car bumpers. The window was closed and shuttered so #3 little paper bag went on the sill. #4 went right next to the front door on the top step. #5 took a little maneuvering but Benny managed to get it into the AC vent without it rattling round too much. Bombs set; Benny walked back to the car and headed back to the office.

Dutch was down at the docks, a regular face that was easily dismissed and ignored as suspicious. The #1 bomb went between the 5,000 gallon fuel tanks outside the boat pen. There were two guards by the dock, but they were too absorbed in their poker game to notice Dutch. The door was unlocked, "Overconfidence breeds incompetence" Dutch thought as he slipped inside. The boat pen held two of the dull blue craft that'd been on the attack. Each boat had an engine access hatch on the deck, making this child's play for Dutch. #2 and #3 were placed between the hull and fuel tanks under the deck and the engine hatch replaced. #4 was placed next to the motor and controls to open the doors to the harbor.

Finally, Dutch strolled out of the boat pen, down the dock to the fuel pump at the end. Lin's boys always used it to sell junky, old, leaded-up gasoline at double normal price. Dutch wrenched open the access panel to one of the pumps and placed the #5 bomb inside it. Bombs placed; Dutch put his hands in his pockets and began to make his way back to the office.

Revy had split off from Rock and made her way to the main drag. This office was better built and guarded so just dropping the bombs off on the front porch like a flaming bag of dog shit wouldn't do it. There was a trio of slick looking cars out front, so Revy smashed a window out of one and set off the alarm. As the gangsters ran out to see whose face they were going to rearrange, Revy slipped right in through the front door.

#1 was tossed under the couch in the first room and #2 was crammed into the side table drawer with the office's telephone on it. #3 was placed behind the massive computer in a side room; Benny wouldn't have approved but then again would never know. #4 was left in the armory next to a box of grenades. #5 was left on the lip of the middle car bumper as she snuck back outside. Revy then hopped onto bumper of a passing truck headed towards the office while the guys from the office stood around scratching their heads. Revy smiled maliciously as she thought about the boxes of 3" nails she'd dumped into each brown paper sack.

Rock was still having reservations about his job, as expected. It was a safe-house along the road to the Yeller Flag. Even though it was in the middle of the building row, the house was free standing. The front was sagging down, slumped like a fat man's gut over his belt. Rock placed four paper sacks at the base of the four columns that held up the front of the building. The last sack went onto the only car's bumper. Still unsure about what he was doing but too far along to really turn back, Rock kept walking and headed back to town.

. . .

"Man alive that is one swanky joint." I thought, lookin' up, up, an' up at the Sampam Palace Hotel. "Must be nice havin' that kinda spendin' money." Fer today, I had tah change mah look. Dutch said that since I was still relatively new in town, I still stuck out. That an' if yer the one that punched Mister Lin himself in the face, people tend tah remember what yah look like. So, the rest of Lagoon helped me git gussied up fer mah walk downtown. Boots were swapped out fer ah pair of Rock's loafers, stained up jeans fer ah nice Sunday pair of jeans (you wear what fits you) Corona shirt for ah Hawaiian that Benny had loaned me an' I regretfully left mah hat behind an' put on jest mah pair of aviator shades. Hell, even mah fluffball of curly hair had been slicked back. Jane said I finally looked normal, Dutch'd said I looked like ah used car dealer. All that remained was to disguise mah voice...

"Pardon me good sir!" I asked the man at the door.

"Tha hell you want Limey?" The doorman asked.

"I wish to inquire about these fine automobiles. They are for purchase, are they not?" I laid on that fake British thicker than ah London Fog.

"Mistah, you new here. Everything for sale for right price. Even souls and own mother."

"Oh yes, it is quite a different world here, certainly no Hyde Park! But I must say it is refreshing to see a gentleman such as you that appreciates finer driving machines." 'Flattery is an art Country' indeed Miss Balalaika. "May I have the pleasure of a walk-around?"

"Sure. But no touch!"

"Wouldn't dream of it old chap."

There was five cars out front. Two Beemers, two Mercedes an' what looked like an honest-tah gosh Hummer. I'd reconnoitered the place the other day an' came to the conclusion I wasn't gittin' into the office or near it. I figgered that the cars'd do.

I had the bombs in one-ah them messenger style bags, yah sling it over yer shoulder. Kinda like the one Indiana Jones uses I guess. I'd glued ah magnet to each bomb so I could stick 'em to the frame when I knelt next to each car. I made up some 'scuses like "Inspecting the wheel-well" or "Admiring the spectacular trim painting" or "Inquiring about the customized exhaust" or whatever I could bullshit.

Bombs set, I asked about the owner an' if he was in; I said I was int'resed in buyin'.

"Mistah Lin not in. Come back tomorrow." So, the little weasel wadn't home…bummer an' oh well. I thanked the man an' sauntered on down the boulevard. I looked down at my watch; I had ten minutes 'fore the fireworks 'round town started poppin' off. I bought ah bag of apples from ah vendor an' as I munched on one, tried to figure out why I had that naggin' feelin' somethin' was …off.

. . .

As Benny drove away from the waterfront, he pulled out the remote from his shirt pocket and firmly pressed buttons one through five. He heard the five explosions behind him. The cars erupted in flames and the bomb in the vent caused the ceiling of the building to cave in. Despite never pulling a trigger in his time in Roanapur or even his life, Benny felt…oddly satisfied with himself. "It was them or you." He said.

Dutch walked just enough to be out of the way but still watch. #1…_BOOM!_ #2…_BOOM!_ #3, #4, #5…_Ba-BaBOOM! _The fuel tanks and fuel docks started belching clouds of noxious clouds of black smoke that began covering the dockyards in a blinding haze. The two boats inside burned fiercely, the flames reached and caught the rafters on fire. With the main doors jammed and the other doors too hot to even approach, the boat pen burned like a Viking pyre.

"Good riddance." Dutch said as he watched the blaze consume the dock and boat pen, the flames rising to one hundred feet. "No one puts holes in my boat."

With the alarms silenced and a conclusion it was 'some fuckin' street kid', the men at Revy's assignment trooped back inside. Revy mashed down on all the buttons at the same time. Those poor bastards never knew what hit them. The middle car leapt at the explosion and took out the two cars on either side. Their windows were shattered, the tires popped and the cars were perforated with shrapnel. The few men who survived the explosions stumbled outside with blood pouring from their ears and the dozens of nails driven into their flesh. One even had three sticking out of his head alone. The men were greeted by a crowd screaming with horror and collapsed on the sidewalk, their blood running through the pour lines on the concrete and onto the road.

Rock was sitting as a table in the open-air market that meandered through the city, a swath of food, spices and smells. He was fiddling with the remote, trying to figure out how to justify pushing the buttons. As he sat, the pay phone next to his table started ringing. Confused, but not really surprised by anything anymore, Rock walked over and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Rock! Glad ya picked up!" Country boomed over the phone, causing Rock to hold the receiver away from his ear in surprise. "Ah wuzz fraid some old biddy would answer. Anyhow, awful quiet on yer end ah town. Everythin' goin' alright?"

"I'm…just not comfortable with this." There was a pause and a sigh on the other end of the line.

"Ah figgered. It's my fault. It was me tryin' tah pass somethin' onto you Ah should-ah done myself. That an' Ah got us int-ah this mess, it sucks fer you to be tryin' tah help clean up. Anyway, it is what it is. See here's tha thing, Rock, yer smart. Revy says so; Dutch does, Benny, everybody. Ah'd bet you've already tried tah fanangle ah way outta this mess with that noodle ah yers where no one gits hurt, you keep yer hands clean an' all goes back tah normal. But there's one thing you ain't thought of."

"And that is?"

"You can't reason with these kinda people Rock. They're jest like politicians back in tha States. They can't be bought; we ain't got ah printin' press big enough. They can't be reasoned with because all you do when yah argue with a fool is give him ah chance tah drag you down tah his level an' then beat ya with experience. They can't be intimidated to fear us an' leave us alone, 'less Hotel Moscow or tha Triad gits involved an' even then, there's no surefire way'd that work either. Our only option is tah fight 'em head on."

"But why me?! Why do I have to get dragged down in with everyone else?" Rock pleaded over the phone. "Why, I've never killed anyone. I don't even know how to shoot a gun. Now you've got me holding the trigger to five bombs!"

"Rock, do you know when Ah killed someone fer tha first time?" Country asked quietly.

"I don't know, back in the States?"

"No. Jest tha other day, when we were fightin' it out on tha ocean. After we all went home, Ah puked fer ah good ten minutes an damn near bawled. Ah felt horrible, tha most Ah wanted tah do was crawl outta my own skin. All that kept runnin' through my head was 'Some fine, upstandin' young man Ah turned out tah be.' But, Ah reasoned wid myself fer ah bit an came to ah conclusion an' it's tha same one Ah been tellin' you. Protectin' myself an' those closest tah me. So Rock, Ah ask again, think of someone, something worth fightin' fer. What is yer line in tha sand? If it ain't fer yerself, which Ah gather, is there anyone, in this entire God-fersaken cesspool yer willin' tah punch that trigger fer? We're all headin' fer an early grave unless this stops. So who is yah willin' tah kill fer?" Rock didn't have to think about it, there wasn't a trace of hesitation in his answer. It came to him like he'd known all along.

"Revy…to protect her." Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. _Fwwwwhhhhaaaawwwhhooooooommmmmm!_ The explosions kicked out the pillars and the front of the rotting building. With the front of the first floor gone, the rest of the building collapsed forward, bricks, dust and rubble spilled across the street.

"There…it's…it's done." Rock said; his heart racing with adrenaline.

"Yer ah good man Rock. Ah figgered that'd be yer reason, an' it's ah good one." Country said. "Alrighty, head t'wards tha office, Ah'll meet y'all there."

"Wait! How did you know to call this phone?"

"Dutch ah course, that much is easy. That man's gotta be some kinda wizard er somethin'. He's got mind readin', psychic type stuff goin' on. Anyhow, hurry back now…somethin's not right in tha world." As Rock hung up the phone, he expected to feel some rush of guilt, regret, self-loathing…but nothing came. He'd just blown up a building, with people inside! But, he felt…just…empty. Not elated or happy about what he'd just done, just himself.

"Maybe something like this was inevitable, at least in this city." Rock thought as five more explosions rocked Roanapur.

. . .

Rock, Revy, Benny and Dutch all arrived back at the office at the same time. They were in the parking lot out front, gathered around the GTO.

"Well, that went better than expected." Benny said as he killed the engine. "It looks like no one got caught or blown up. I call that success."

"I'm glad we decided to make bombs ourselves." Dutch added. "They never saw us coming."

"It's good Country knew how to make those." Bennny said. "I probably would have blown my hands off."

"Speakin' of Bumpkin…where is he?" Revy was looking around, up and down the street. She had that creepy-crawly feeling snaking its way up her spine and raising the hair on the back of her neck…then she smelled It.

"You smell It too, don't you Revy, the Blood and Guts." Dutch asked, scanning the rooftops. 'Nothing out of the ordinary…hold-up.' Dutch thought as a column of black cars pulled around a corner. Some were brand-new, waxed and polished. Others were not so well off. There were several with smoke trailing from their engines and exhaust, mirrors missing, windows blown out, and one even looked like a hedgehog with a hardware store's worth of nails sticking out of it. All had the same skull painted on the side with a dagger thrust up through its mouth and wreathed in flame. In the lead car, two gunmen leaned out of the windows with AK-47's and opened fire.

Lagoon took cover behind the low brick wall around the parking lot and the cars pulled up across the street. Revy was proving a hard target to pin down; she was a proverbial whack-a-mole. She'd pop up on one end of the wall, fire three or four rounds from each gun, drop down, scoot over to the other end of the wall, pop up and fire again.

"What the hell?" Rock said as the cellphone sitting on the seat of the GTO began to ring. He crawled over to the car, reached in through the window and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Rock! It's Country. Ah'm on the way, I did ah quick supply run, be ready fer a pick-up in thirty seconds." Click. Rock peered cautiously over the wall, trying not to expose too much of his head. A bullet headed his way smashed into the wall, throwing brick chips into his face. Maybe he'd just stay down and admire the cracks in the asphalt. Then, Rock heard…music? Rock risked another look over the wall. Coming up the road from down by the waterfront was a dark blue truck, a '59 Ford F-250. It pulled up at an angle from Lagoon and Lin's men, the radio blasting Molly Hatchet's 'Bounty Hunter'. Rock almost laughed, Country wasn't kidding when he'd said 'pick-up', but he just didn't think he was being literal.

"Who else would do that?" Rock thought.

. . .

"Dutch!" I yelled as I jogged t'wards the rest of Lagoon. Dutch's head popped up from behind the wall. "Catch!" I lofted a Remington 870 USMC Special t'wards him, followed by ah bandolier of shells. Dutch snatched his gun from the air like he had a magnetic pull on it. One of Lin's henchmen was trying to flank around our right and found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

"Yo." Dutch pumped a shell in, _Ker-Klunk!_ And the shotgun blast threw the man back across the sidewalk.

Fer now, I'd left the M1928A1 Thompson on the truck's bench seat an' picked up ah Winchester 97 Trench Gun from the gun locker I'd cracked open at the airfield. It's ah five-shot, 12-gauge, pump shotgun with an external hammer, ah big heat shield over the barrel an' even a mount for ah bayonet. You can even slam-fire it! What? Y'all don' know what slam-fire is?! Its only the most fun thing tah do with ah shotgun, next to blowin' up mailboxes…oh c'mon, I was drinkin'. Anyhow, there's no disconnect fer the trigger, so if yah hold down the trigger, it will fire everytime yah pump in ah new shell, an' will do it as fast as yah can pump…cool huh?

I started walkin' t'wards the group of cars Lin's men were hiding behind. They didn' know it yet but their right flank was 'bout tah git lit up like the Fourth ah July as Danny Joe Brown an' Molly Hatchet sang:

_Did you know five hundred dollars will get your head blown off?! It will! Ha! Ha! HA!_

_Bah-BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!_ I emptied the gun, firing five shots in two seconds. I hit the first guy twice an' his right arm flew off an' flopped on the sidewalk like ah twitchin' fish. The next two went down with chunks of their ribcages splattered across the door of their car. The fourth I winged in the upper arm an' shoulder. His arm dangled uselessly, the bone an' socket shattered an' the upper end of his humerus bone, splintered an' sharp stuck out of the hole ripped open by 00 buckshot. His left hand shook an' his right arm wriggled as he tried to switch his gun from his right to his left hand.

I racked back the slide an' opened the chamber, the spent shell ejected as smoke wafted from both ends of the barrel. I dropped a shell into the chamber an' slammed it closed then fed four shells into the tube. By now, the man had swapped his gun from right to left hand. He slowly raised his gun, pointing it up at me, the slide rattlin' as he tried to hold it steady. Then there was ah _Blam!_ From across the street from one of Revy's Cutlasses an' ah bullet crashed into the man's skull.

"Country! I think it's time to go!" Dutch yelled as he an' Benny jumped into the GTO.

"Why now?" _Bah-BOOMBOOMBOOM!_ I fired off another three rounds, takin' down two more gunmen as they stood to fire on the GTO. "We've got 'em by tha balls! We need tah press the advantage!"

"I wasn't asking! Now get Rock and Revy in the truck and follow us!" I was 'bout to argue an' then I laid eyes on the SUV with an M2 Ma-Duece mounted on the roof, barrelin' down the road like Hell on Wheels. Yep. Time to go.

"Rock, Revy, yer with me!" We beat feet to the truck. Ah grenade thrown behind us went off an' the blast bowled Rock over. Revy, mid-stride, seized him by the tie an' threw him like ah gutted deer into the truck bed.

"Get this shit heap rolling ya damn Hick!"

"Uh, yes miss." I romped on the gas an' we took off like ah jackrabbit fer the airfield. If I could git there in time, I had another weapon tah bring intah play. It looked like they wasn't givin' chase yet, probably gatherin' their dead an' wounded an' then they'd reorganize.

"Hey Country…" Rock asked as he recovered from tha grenade blast. "This sure is a nice truck…where did you get it?"

"Ah borrowed it."

"Borrowed it?"

"Yep."

"Like you borrowed the Liberator?"

"You catch on purdy quick. Ah was out an' about when Ah saw some of Lin's boys were followin' me in it. I sure hated that such a good lookin' vehicle was bein' driven 'round by ah bunch of n'er-do-wellers , so we had ourselves a little scuffle on tha side of tha road. In exchange fer lettin' them keep their brains in their skulls, Ah kept tha truck."

"So why haven't I seen you driving it around?"

"Had to git it repainted. Had that big ole skull on tha door…an' it was banana yeller. Can you imagine ah more horrid color on a truck?"

At the main bridge outta town, Benny an' Dutch had stopped on the far side. Dutch was fiddlin' with somethin' on the bridge while Benny kept watch.

"What'cha foolin' there with Dutch?" I asked as I pulled up.

"Claymores my man, with some tripwires." Dutch smiled devilishly as he pointed them out. "This is the fastest way to the airfield, they're sure to come this way and these'll buy us some time."

"Thanks fer tha time, we're gonna go git set-up. Ah even hired some extra help fer tha occasion."

"You hired help?" Revy asked through the back windah. "Who did you get?"

"Said they knew y'all. Some tall Taiwanese lady, this petite girl lookin' like Halloween walkin' an some white-haired feller in ah long coat an sunglasses. Called himself a, uh…warlock? No, sorcerer? Ah think he's ah tad touched in tha head."

"Oh that's just fuckin' great." Revy groaned from the truck bed. "You would hire Chinglish, Spooky and Wizard Boy."

"Pardon, but who you talkin' bout?"  
"Shenhuah, Sawyer The Cleaner and Lotton…The Wizard."

. . .

At the airfield, a dark blue Ford and a red GTO pulled up outside the main hangar, screeching to a halt. A reefer box truck with "U.G. Pork" painted on the side was there, causing Revy to groan.

"Why'd you have to hire them?" She asked Country as they got out of the truck.

"They was willin' tah work cheap ah course, an' on such short notice."

The side door of the hangar opened and out strolled Shenhuah, tall with long legs, waist-length black hair and twin blades that she twirled on the end of their tethers.

"Oh hello Bumpkin! I see you bring Dumbass and Twinky with you!"

"Dumbass? Twinky?" Country was trying not to laugh; Revy looked like she was going to have an aneurism.

"He Dumbass cause he always getting captured." Shenhuah pointed at Rock, "And she Twinky, forgotten her heritage. Don't forget slut that I split your ass in four!" Shenhuah glared at Revy.

"I see your English hasn't improved." Revy said, flipping Shenhuah off.

"My English very good. You no make fun or you get cut, rotten bitch."

"Ooooookayyyy…enough-ah that." Country said, stepping between the two growling women. "They're gonna be here soon…" There was a series of muffled explosions as the claymores at the bridge went off. "So, Ah'm gonna go get ready…annnnnd y'all coord'nate out here 'mongst yerselves." Country ran towards the main hangar doors, past the B-24 to a large object covered in tarps. Country seized the tarps and tugged them off. Underneath, to everyone's surprise, was an F4U-4 Corsair.

"Say hello to mah secret weapon!" Country started turning the prop around to get the engine fluids flowing. "An' Revy! There's guns 'n' ammo in tha toolbox. I got 'em from the arms locker under tha hangar!"

As Country started up the plane, Revy opened up the coffin-sized toolbox in the back of the truck. There were four 1911 pistols, two Winchester 97 shotguns, two M1 Carbines, two M1928A1 Tommy guns and an M1919 light machine gun wrapped in belts of linked ammunition.

"Hot damn! Looks like he was ready for World War Three! Old habits sure die hard!" Revy tossed Benny and Dutch Tommy guns. Benny looked a little uneasy with the gun in his hands but didn't give it back either.

"Well c'mon Rock. Don't stand around; grab that tripod and those ammo cans so we can get this gun set up, you can feed for me." Revy said, grinning as she pulled the M1919 out of the toolbox.

. . .

It'd taken me ah few weeks to git 'er put tah-gether but it sure did look worth all the effort. The F4U-4 Corsair is a WW2 fighter with gull-shaped wings, an elongated engine that got it called "Hose Nose" by its pilots, six fifty-cal M2's in the wings, three 500-lb bomb racks, eight racks fer rockets an' ah 2,100 horsepower engine to hurl my crazy butt along at 450 miles an hour. Talk about ah thrill ride. Now…let's jest hope Ah can git it off tha ground.

As everyone else on the ground got set, I started up an' took off, headin' back t'wards the bridge. I sure hoped I'd put everythin' tah-gether right…well, the engine cranked up an' I'm off the ground…so far, so good. Thank god fer tha manual.

I made ah pass over the bridge; two trucks were on fire an' the rest were backed up behind them.

"This'll be easier than ah Turkey Shoot." I said, linin' up the vehicles in the gun sights. I pulled the trigger to let loose a three second burst an'…_Click!_

"What…what in tha blazes hell?"_Click! Click!_ Well, that's whatcha git when yah don' read the whole manual cover to cover. Serves me right fer skippin' pages. I made another loop back around, comin' up on the column from behind, around their 8 o'clock position. I had ah single 100-lb bomb from the storage area under the hangar floor. Sure hoped it worked. I punched the release but seein' I'd never flown a Corsair, let alone done ah bombin' run…ever…I was waaaayyyy off. The bomb hurtled t'wards the vehicles an' bounced in the middle of the road, then over tha bridge an' into tha river, not even takin' out one truck. While they may have pissed their pants, they were otherwise unharmed.

"Shit." I said as I watched my one and only bomb splash into the muddy water. "Ah fergot to arm tha bomb's fuse."

I landed back at the airfield an' taxied over to the hangar, stopping out front next to the tools an' work area. Everyone got out from behind their positions, lookin' like they were ready tah pop the champagne an' celebrate.

"Don't get up yet!" I yelled as I shut the engine down. "They're still comin'!"

. . .

"What do you mean 'they're still coming'?" Benny asked; the rounds in the fifty-round drum of his Tommy gun rattling as he jogged over to the Corsair. "Wasn't that the whole point of this plane?" Country pursed his lips, clearly embarrassed and looked over at the plane.

"Well, tha guns locked up on me an' Ah missed with tha bomb…an' fergot tah arm the fuse."

"You missed with the bomb? How do you do that?"

"Yah know Benny…you'd be awful surprised. Ah'll admit that it's ah lot harder than Ah thought."

"You miss? How you miss with bomb?" Shenhuah chimed in. "Some great pilot if your plane not even work."

"Now Ah know why Revy speaks so fondly of you." Country said as he pulled over one of the rolling toolboxes. "Ya do realize Ah put this together from ah box myself." Country started to unbolt the panels over the guns. "Ah ain't even had ah chance to test anythin' or sight tha guns in. The fact it started without blowin' up an' Ah got off tha ground is ah miracle in of itself." Country was red in the face, not happy in the least about his plane's malfunction.

"Hey! Here they come!" Dutch had clambered up onto the hangar roof for a better look. More trucks were coming down the road and were 500 yards out and closing. Revy full-loaded the M1919 and opened fire with a long burst. The first truck was caught in the line of fire as Revy walked the tracers on target. The front passenger and driver were hit, the windshield exploded as rounds smashed through it. The SUV swerved off the road and crashed into the ditch, its side and front perforated with 0.30 caliber holes.

As the vehicles approached, Country yelled for Sawyer and Shenhuah. He reached into the truck's toolbox and pulled out two M1 Carbines with a bandolier for each.

"Here!" He held out the guns to the women. "Take these an' git shootin'!"

"We no carry guns. Blade is always better."

"Ah wasn't askin' Miss, Ah was tellin' politely as Ah can. Y'all wanna git paid right?"

"Of course!"

"Well, Ah'm tha one who hired you," _ZZzzzwwhiiiiipppp!_A round buzzed past Shenhuah and Sawyer's heads, embedding itself into the barracks behind them with an echoing _Claannnngg!_ "An' since that makes me yer boss, when Ah say shoot, you say 'At who'?" Country tossed them the guns which they caught awkwardly. "Now arm up an' earn yer pay." Country turned to Lotton; who was trying his very best to look cooler than everyone else.

"Please tell me yer carryin'." Country asked, starting to sound exasperated at his choice of hired help.

"Yes, of course. I carry…these!" Lotton said coolly, drawing a pair of C96 Mauser Broomhandle Pistols.

"Yah gottah be kiddin' me." Country said; trying not to laugh but a signature grin spread across his face. "C'mere you goofball." Country pulled out and loaded up a Winchester 97 Trench Gun. "Here's ah real man's gun. Good 'ole 12-guage." Country held it out to Lotton.

"Do you think I'll look cool with it?"

"Cooler than Elvis. Now take tha gun or yer fired." Lotton accepted the gun and box of shells, saying he was sure he'd look cool enough.

This time, instead of coming down the runway, Lin's men turned early and tried to flank through the barracks on the right.

"Rock, Revy!" Country yelled from the Corsair, trying to put everything back together, elbows deep into the plane's wing. "Pick up yer gun an' shift yer fire right!" Revy twisted the gun and yanked it free from the tripod. She folded the remaining ammo belt over the top of the receiver, grabbed an ammo can and slung the M1919 over her shoulders. Rock folded up the tripod, grabbed the other two ammo cans and followed Revy as fast as he could.

"Here! Here, set up here!" Revy pointed to the collapsed boom arm of a rusted out excavator. Rock jerked open the tripod and set it down on the boom, hardly believing what his eyes were seeing. A year and a half ago, he was pushing paper in an office and now he was setting up a light machine gun at an airfield to fight off gangsters... 'Amazing how things change' Rock thought. Revy dropped the pintle back into the tripod and locked the gun in place. She then opened the cover, pulled out the old ammo belt, took the new end from Rock and loaded the first round, slammed the cover back down, full-loaded the gun, _CH-Ching! CH-Ching!_

"Come an' dance, yah scurvy dogs!" She cackled in pure pirate fashion, opening up as the first car swerved around the corner. Three vehicles in all came barreling in as Lagoon and the Terrible Trio all piled on. 0.30 caliber bullets, 0.45 caliber slugs and 12-guage buckshot riddled the three cars; the occupants emptied themselves of their blood and guts, splattering in a pulpy mash all over the interior. Two swerved and crashed into old equipment alongside the road while the third slowly rolled to a stop, the engine wafting smoke from under the hood.

Five vehicles had gone past the hangar, slipped around behind it and were coming back up the runway on the left.

"Dutch! Benny!" Country yelled as he released the charging bar on the left wing, loading the guns on that side again. "Help me turn tha plane around!" Dutch and Benny ran back to the front of the hangar. "There's ah jack over yonder, put it under tha rear wheel an' git tha guns level!" The Corsair is a plane type known as a "tail-dragger", where one set of landing gear is in the back of the plane. So when the Corsair is on the ground, it is actually tilted backwards a bit, pointed upwards at an angle. This means the guns are as well.

"Okay, turn me left!" Country was clambering back into the cockpit and was nearly thrown off as the plane started to move. "Dang it, wait 'till Ah'm sittin'!" He plunked down on the seat. "Okay, left!" The plane moved again. "Yer other left yah doofuses!"

The Corsair swung around and Country caught the lead vehicle with a two second burst. Six fifty-caliber guns disintegrated the car. It stopped immediately on a dime and erupted in flames, roasting the passengers inside.

"Left…left…" Country called out, another burst and another car bit the dust. "Right…" Another burst…another burst. "Right! Hard right! Hard fuckin' right!" Dutch and Benny practically shoved the plane sideways as the last few cars tried to speed past the Corsair's line of fire…but didn't make it in time. The three hulks ground to a stop with burning gasoline leaking out onto the runway.

. . .

"Well spank me pink an' call me Sally." Country said, standing on the Corsair's seat and leaning on the front windshield bracing. "That was fiercer fightin' than tha Battle of Blair Mountain."

"You say that right Bumpkin." Shenhuah panted. She'd nearly been squashed by an out of control truck and run for her life.

"Amen, Hallelujah and Peanut Butter…let's never do this again." Dutch said, lowering the jack on the Corsair. "I don't think my blood pressure is going to hold up too much more of this." Everyone nodded in agreement as they surveyed the burning wreckage strewn across the airfield.

"So what're we going to do with this mess?" Rock asked, always thinking ahead.

"There's ah bulldozer over in tha next hangar." Country said. "If Dutch an' Benny gimme ah hand, Ah'll have it up 'n' runnin' in ah jiffy. Then we can at least push tha mess off tha runway." He started to unload his shotgun, putting the shells in his pocket. As Country pumped out the last round, there was the unmistakable _Bang! _of a screen door slamming shut.

"Country! Country!" The words came from two children. They were running across the lawn of the old base commander's house, Country had taken it up as his own. They were dressed in mechanic jumpsuits with the legs and arms cut off and crudely sewn up. On their feet were old army boots that came up to their knees, stuffed with paper and cloth so they would fit. One, the boy, was a little slower as he favored his right leg. They made a bee-line for Country, who knelt to talk to them face-to-face.

"Hansel an' Gretel! What's gotten intah you two? Didn' I tell y'all to stay in tha house 'till Ah came to fetch yah?"

. . .


	7. Chapter 7

Have you ever had one of those days when you're supposed to be doing something really important...but just can't? That's me today and this is the result. In the last chapter, the cat got out of the bag and now the rest of Lagoon knows the Twins are alive again. I highly suggest putting 66 Steps from the soundtrack on for reading this chapter, I had it playing when I wrote the first draft of it. I hope you enjoy it and don't go nuts reading it.

* * *

For the first time she could remember, Revy found herself frozen. It couldn't be possible…it _shouldn't_ be possible! Perhaps she had taken a bullet to the head and these were the vivid hallucinations of her brain's last dying moments. She pinched the side of her thigh…yep. That hurt. Well, since it wasn't a hallucination, there was only one thing to do. She drew her Cutlasses and leveled them on where the Twins were standing, hidden by Country's shoulders and back.

"Country! Get the fuck outta the way!" She yelled. Didn't he know who they were, _what_ they were? How could he not feel the pure evil standing no more than arm's length away from him?

"Country! Will you fuckin' move?!" He stood and turned, his eyes went wide with shock as he saw the two barrels pointed at him.

"Now Mizz Revy, wha's tha big…oh my. Why…why are those pointed at me?"

"They're not pointed at you, they're pointed at them! Now move!" Country looked around at the rest of Lagoon, searching for someone to help him out. He found no one.

"Dutch?" The Remington 870 swung down from Dutch's shoulder and was held ready at waist level. "Mizz Sawyer, Mizz Shenhuah?" Two M1 Carbines were trained on the Twins hiding behind his legs. "Lotton?" The Wizard answered by thumbing a new shell into the '97's tube. "Oh Benny, you too?" Benny had his Thompson at high ready. He didn't look too sure about himself, but the gun stayed up. "Rock? C'mon buddy. Help me out here." Country said, looking visibly scared. He took a step backwards towards the Twins and his eyes darted quickly from person to person, gun barrel to gun barrel. His hands strayed nervously along his gunbelt, too close to his revolver for Revy's liking.

"Don't you even fuckin' think about it! Move aside!"

"Okay…look…" At Revy's bark, Country had his hands up at shoulder height. "Why don' we all jest simmer down some an' figger this out?"

"There's nothing to figure out Country." Dutch said. "Those two behind you are supposed to be dead and should have stayed that way. The longer they are here, the more danger they put themselves and us in."

"What? Oh, c'mon. They's jest kids, what could they have done?" Revy almost dropped her guns in shock, hardly believing the naïve words coming from Country.

"Oh, you don't know? The little devils haven't told you about the hundreds of skeletons in their closet?"

"You should watch who you call a devil lady." Hansel said from behind Country.

"You hush up right now boy!" Country snapped, glaring down at Hansel. "Ah'm tryin' mah best here an' sass like that ain' helpin' me. Best fer you at tha moment is to be seen an' not heard." He looked back at Lagoon, confusion in his eyes as seven guns were trained in his direction. He looked over at Rock, his face pleading, screaming for help. Rock had no idea what to do. He could help Country, someone he hardly knew, sure. That would put him up against the rest of Lagoon and the Terrible Trio. Dutch, Revy and Benny probably wouldn't shoot him. Lotton was liable to miss him completely. Shenhuah certainly would and he was pretty sure Sawyer just saw everyone as a piece of meat that hadn't met her chainsaw yet.

On the other hand, he had tried to save them once, and had almost succeeded, at least with Gretel. It was a failure that had tormented him for weeks on end and still did some nights. He couldn't forget her smiling face running over with blood as she expired on the dock, cut down like a rabid dog. But now…they were back. It was if they were here to remind him of his failure. Perhaps they weren't real, just specters that had crossed the void to haunt and torment those that had wronged them in their past life. As Rock see-sawed as to what he should do, a dark grey car pulled through the airfield's gate. It headed down the runway straight for them.

Benny noticed the car first and dropped his gun like it had burned him.

"Where're you goin'?" Country asked as Benny turned away.

"Fuck it! Fuck it all! I. AM. OUT." Benny said as he headed for the GTO.

"Oh c'mon man, wha's tha problem?" Benny didn't stop walking but he did answer Country.

"If that's whose car I think it is, anyone in a half mile radius of this spot is dead meat and I intend to stay off the menu."

"Ain't we friends?"

"Yeah we are…but it's Miss Balalaika…there's nothing I can do."

"Ai-yah! I with him!" Shenhuah said, dropping her gun. "You pay Country, yes, but you no pay enough for this. I leave now, good luck Bumpkin!" She turned and followed Benny with Lotton and Sawyer in tow.

The car pulled up and the door swung open. A cloud of cigar smoke wafted out from inside the cabin. Miss Balalaika stepped out, distracted by her phone.

"Very well. I'll talk to you later Chang…baby." She teased and hung up. "Good evening Lagoon Company and associates! I thought I'd stop by and see the cause of all the noise you've been make…ing…" She trailed off; her cigar tumbled from her lips and snuffed out as it hit the ground. Her face flashed from confusion to fear to rage faster than a stoplight. She tried to find words; something to articulate the feelings flashing through her but all that came out was a scream of revulsion and horror. So terrible it was that the hackles of all who heard it were raised and even Sergeant Boris seemed taken aback at his Capitan's reaction.

"Wh…what are those…" Balalaika stabbed out with a quivering finger "THINGS! Doing here?!"

Over to the side of the gathering, Dutch muttered a quiet "Oh fuck me…"

"And why…" Balalaika continued "Are you standing in front of them Country?!" She shrieked as another storm rent the sky. The heavens opened up in the second big storm of the monsoon, soaking everyone. Country readjusted his hat so the rain wouldn't drip onto his face and continued to stand defiantly where he was with his arms folded across his chest, seemingly rooted to the spot.

"Answer me!" Balalaika yelled, holding her coat open so she could go for her gun.

"Ah stand in front of 'em 'cause there ain' no one willin' to stand beside 'em."

. . .

The rain continued to pour, snuffing out the fires of the burning trucks. A lightning flash lit up the runway as bright as noon and it was plain to see Balalaika was smiling.

"Very admirable Country…" She said, reaching inside her coat. "But also so very stupid, you dumb Hick." The Stechkin came out and was on its way up to its target. The Highway Patrolman cleared leather and its hammer was halfway back when a white button-up shirt appeared between the two.

"Yaponski! Not this again." Balalaika groaned as Rock stood between her and Country and the Twins. "I thought we had already agreed you weren't going to be acting out this little…hobby of yours when I'm around?"

"Sorry Miss Balalaika." Rock said, spreading his arms to cover more of the three behind him. "But old habits are hard to break."

"I was under the impression I spared your life once for this foolishness and made it clear I wouldn't make the same mistake twice…yet here you are."

"Come on, shooting them isn't going to solve anything!"

"Actually Rock, you couldn't be more wrong." Balalaika's smile widened to a cruel grimace. "You see, I can kill Country and he will have paid for the property of mine he stole with his blood. Then, I'll shoot those little brats behind him and they'll be dead for good this time. I will ensure there will be no way in Heaven, Earth or Hell that they can ever be brought back again. By the time I'm finished with them, the Devil himself will recoil with disgust should he lay eyes on them!" She paused, and then her face brightened a bit as if she'd just had an epiphany. "And while I'm at it, shooting you is becoming all the more appealing. It's nothing personal you see, but at least you will never be getting in my way like this ever again."

"Hey Sis!" Revy said, guns now pointed at the Twins and Balalaika. "I'd bury any thoughts like shooting Rock. They won't end well for you."

"Oh, how sweet of you Two-Hands, concerned for Rock are you?"

"Keep talking shit like that and you'll see just how concerned I can get." Revy couldn't figure out who to focus on with her guns. On her right were the Twins. They were unarmed but that was little comfort. On her left was Balalaika and she was certainly carrying. Worse was the rain and lightning. One flash of lightning could look like a shot, one roar of thunder could be mistaken for a round being fired and the little squabble could end in a bloodbath.

"Hold up. Hold up, hold up jest one secon'!" Country said, lowering his gun. "Don' this seem to be ah little outta proportion to anyone? Like, ain' we makin' ah mountain out of a molehill?" Everyone looked at Country, at each other and then back to Country and wondered what he was getting at.

"Ah mean, Ah'm still not even sure why yer all steamed up over two dern kids."

"They're sadistic, cruel and twisted demons that…" Balalaika started to say.

"Ah'm sorry to interrupt what Ah'm sure is ah well-written ramble with ah slideshow an' pie charts…" Country cut her off before she got into full swing. "But Ah don' wanna hear it from you." He turned around and knelt before the Twins. "Ah'm wantin' the story from the horses' mouth. Ah wanna hear their version." The thought had never occurred to anyone else present. Ask…the Twins…for their story and how they felt?

"I think he go dien cai dao." Shenhuah whispered to Sawyer and Lotton as they watched from behind the GTO with Benny.

"Okay kiddos. Let's hear it." The Twins looked confused, unsure what was being asked of them or what to say.

"Where should we, I mean, what do I…?" Hansel asked, uneasy with all the eyes on him.

"Start from the beginnin' an' tell whatever needs tellin'." Country put a hand on Hansel's shoulder. "Ah'll lissen tah whatever y'all got to say. Git all of it outta yer system." They nervously peered over Country's shoulders at Balalaika, waiting with her gun in line with Rock, then Country's back, and them. On their left was Revy, one Cutlass pointed straight at them and the other at Balalaika, her fingers taking up slack in the triggers.

"Don' be lookin' at them. Jest look at me, 'kay? Start from tha beginnin' an' make sure yah speak up so's everyone can hear."

. . .

Their story started with their birthplace, Romania. There was the orphanage, a tall, cold, dark and foreboding castle of a house. Its days were filled with gloom and nights with bad dreams and crying oneself to sleep on a half-empty stomach of moldy bread and soup so thin you could read a newspaper through it.

Then there was a car. It was going to take them away to where "some very nice men" were going "to take care of them", or at least that's what the head of the orphanage told them. They saw the money change hands and didn't understand what it meant…at first.

Things immediately took a turn for the worse in their story as they recounted their first film: "Hansel and Gretel go to School." They had thought it was a game; they were even given uniforms to change into. They were shoved into a room with desks, chairs, a blackboard and everything a classroom usually contains except for the stern looking, older man in a grey suit and the camera crew. They said the man began yelling at them in a language they didn't understand. He grew louder and harsher, throwing things around the room as he worked himself into a rage. They hadn't known what was going on and being just children, they started to cry. Their tears only enraged the man more and he had then began to beat Gretel. Hansel tried to protect his sister and was beaten as well. The film concluded with both being raped and then beaten again, for good measure. After the final take, they were tossed into a room and left to themselves.

For what seemed an eternity, the stories continued and each was more terrible than the last. The Twins began to cry softly as their memories came flooding back. Their tears mixed with the rain that was pouring down in sheets, their silver hair matted down to their heads. The detail they remembered was staggering. Every punch, kick, slap, broken bone was accounted for. Black eyes, broken and bloody noses, nights spent writhing in agony from pain and hunger were too many to count. Every rape, film, photograph was dredged up for all to hear…and then their fighting started.

Their first fight had been a two versus two. It was Twins VS Twins. Silver hair and blue eyes were pitted against brown hair and brown eyes with a baseball bat between the four of them. First bruises, then lacerations and finally, cracked and leaking skulls later it ended. For once, because of their victory, they were not beaten. The pattern repeated itself the next night, and the night after that. The harder they fought, the crueler and more ingenious their methods, the louder those watching cheered and the better they were treated. The more they killed, the longer they were allowed to live.

They were still raped, still filmed, still rented out to whoever had the fattest checkbook and possessed the most twisted mind. The duo told how they became a traveling show of sorts, a freak circus. Instead of fairways, their venues were underground dens, dank basements, hidden coves in dark forests and even the brightly lit and ornate halls of politicians and nobility. Wherever they were sent the sick, perverted and deranged came slithering out of the woodwork. Every new city was a fresh look into the world of darkness where no kind hand would even dare reach into to try and pull even the smallest and most innocent from its depths.

As the Twins continued, those who remained in earshot and hadn't already walked away in disgust found they were transfixed. It was the same with an accident on the road. People will drive by in their cars and see the wreckage. It is always a horrific scene, grotesque to behold and terrifying to witness. But, the observer will always find they are unable to look away. Their eyes are drawn to the carnage, no matter how awful, no matter how loudly their mind screams at them to look away. The same held true for the Twins tale as it wound ever and ever on…going further and further down the rabbit hole.

Their violence became refined, sophisticated in a depraved sense of the word. They told of how they were hired for their first assassination: Murder of a local mayor. They had posed simply as themselves, sold to him as slaves for a week to do whatever he commanded. After their first and only night at his manor, the mayor was found dead. He had been hung from the chandelier in the foyer and then drawn and quartered with knives from the kitchen. Demand for their skills exploded as they found themselves on a tour of Europe and racking up a body count along the way. Every fresh kill, every film, every beating took their tender souls and rent them in half and then those halves were ripped into quarters, eighths, sixteenths…until all the remaining pieces simply would sift through your fingers like grains of sand on the beach. Finally driven to madness, their acclaim crossed hemispheres to the Roanapur branch of the Italian mafia.

That part of the story was still very fresh in everyone's minds except for Country's of course. He hadn't said too much while the Twins talked, only a few prodding words here and there when they had faltered. His face had turned ashen and was drawn tight as he listened, his eyes hidden under the brim of his hat. A few times it looked as if he was going to be sick as his body trembled with disgust. He choked the feeling down and stubbornly continued to remain rooted in his place.

The Twins rehashed their deeds in Roanapur for Country's understanding. The Russians they had cut up and gunned down in the bar, the one they had taken alive and tortured. Every hammer blow, every nail and every twitch of the man's corpse was described in minute detail; much to the dismay of the stomachs of everyone listening.

They finally began wrapping up with their deaths. As they relived them, Country glanced over his shoulder at Balalaika and attempted to make eye contact but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. They went on to describe the lab, their dreams as they lay comatose. Gretel spoke of her revelation after months of reflection, then their escape and discussion at the bus stop. Then, for everyone besides Country, they made their conclusion. Two weeks ago they had arrived at the airfield and Country had allowed them to stay. They had begged, pleaded and offered to do anything for him as long as he didn't breathe a word to anyone that he had seen them or that they were even alive. With no questions asked, he'd stopped dialing the Lagoon Company office number and hung up the phone.

. . .

Finally, they'd a chance to tell their side of things. 13 years of cruelty an' sufferin' had been dug-up an' tumbled out through ah series of sniffles, hiccups, sobs and tears. I took a gander 'round to see how everyone else was doin'. The best way to describe the average look was mortified at least. Benny'd made it until their first fight an' s'cused himself to disappear behind tha hangar an' had yet to return. He was followed by Mizz Sawyer, Mizz Shenhuah an' Lotton not long after. Rock had turned green as ah seasick crocodile an' probably wouldn' make it to behind tha hangar if he sprinted. Mizz Revy looked almost angry. The stories had probably resurrected ah few memories of her own she thought she'd long forgotten. Dutch was stoic as ever, holding everything back behind his Hoover Dam of sunglasses. Boris had turned around, unable to look. He continued to listen however, not abandoning his post at his Capitan's side. Mizz Balalaika seemed to me struck dumb, her Stechkin held limply at her side. For once, it seemed she couldn' think of anythin' clever or witty to say. She'd known of their lives an' certainly what they'd done in this city. I guess what slice she did know paled in comparison to tha full story. Listening to them talk an' recount everything in full, living color had certainly succeeded in unsettling her. Mizz Balalaika stood unresponsive; I guess her mind was reelin' from the full scale of the new information. Well, time to see if it did ah lick of good.

. . .

Country stood up. The Highway Patrolman went back into its holster and the shotgun's sling was hiked up his shoulder. The Twins looked up at him with their eyes shimmering, puffy and red from the past hour. He pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket and held it out to them.

"C'mon now. Dry yer eyes. Wipe yer nose Hansel, yah got snot leakin' like ah fire hydrant." He sighed and leaned back so the rain pattered down on his face. He stood motionless like that for a moment, like he was a tree being watered by the storm.

"Whooooooooooo…" Country breathed, staring up at the sky, hands on his gunbelt and eyes shut. His throat quivered and stomach jumped as he tried his best to concentrate on not throwing up.

"Country, are you…?" Rock began to ask but Country waved him off.

"Jest…uhg…give me ah sec'…Ah'm…uh-ugh…gonna need ah moment." He finally got his body to behave and slowly turned around to face Balalaika again.

. . .

"Ohhh…kayyyy…Mizz Balalaika." I said, tryin' to keep my stomach at bay. "Ah don' know 'bout you, but that little yarn has given me 'nough Nightmare Fuel fer ah hundred years, at least."

"It was certainly a lot more…in depth…than I had anticipated." Mizz Balalaika said quietly. Fer a moment, everyone stood clammed-up, starin' either off into space or at the ground an' not darin' to look at each other. The only sounds came from tha snifflin' behind me an' the poundin' of the rain on the broken chunks of the runway. I cleared my throat an' after a few false starts I found my voice again.

"Ah'd uh, like to say somethin'. They've had their go, an' Ah'd jest like to add to it a little. If yah still has a mind to, go ahead an' shoot me but at least lemme finish." Mizz Balalaika didn' raise her gun so I continued.

"Let's go along with Mr. Wells an' his machine back ah few years. Look at yerselves now with tha eyes of yer past self. Is what you see how you pictured yerself five, ten, twenty years ah-go? I sure ain't what I pictured five years ago. Rock, lemme pick on you fer ah secon'. You didn' see yerself in Roanapur five years ago, hell, you prob'bly didn' even know it existed. You prob'bly saw yerself in ah corner office by now. Mizz Revy, you prob'bly, Ah dunno, saw yerself gittin' shit put right, findin' peace in life or maybe finishin' school. An' you Mizz Balalaika, I am sure you didn' see yerself runnin' tha Roanapur branch of tha Russian mob, am I wrong?"

"No…" She said, still refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"Same's with Hansel an' Gretel here. Ah'm sure they couldn' have even imagined the life they was goin' to be leadin' for tha past 13 years an' how much of ah hell it was gonna be. Ah'll bet they wish they could go back an' do it over an' would if they could. I'm sure everyone here has something they wish they could do over or not do at all. Rock, maybe yah wish some days you'd never gotten on that ship or had managed tah talk some sense intah that girl ya carry ah photo of in yer wallet."

"How do you know about that?"

"Not important right now."

"Revy told you?"

"…May have mentioned it. An' speakin' of Revy, Ah'd bet she wishes some days that she got outta Mott Street sooner or done things different in her life, jest fer example. I know I do. Some days Ah would saw off mah trigger finger to be given a chance to go back to tha day Ah signed up for tha militia. Ah'd march in that meetin' hall, haul my dumbass 18 year old self outta there by his ear, put him in his truck an' send him straight home. These two behind me ain' no different. They's done some awful an' terrible stuff that'd make some fellahs in tha Jackson state penitentiary hurl. But jest like me, an' Rock an' Revy, they can' go back an' change it. What 'bout you?" I decided to throw the ball in her court an' see if she'd pick up an' play. "Anythin' in yer life you wish'd gone different?"

"I fail to see how that is any of your business!" She snapped.

"Ma'am, Ah already know 'bout the Olympics." Ah said an' that got her good.

"How do you know about that? Who did you talk to?" She said quickly.

"No one. Remember tha day we first met an' Ah was in yer office? You have ah bunch of VHS tapes on yer bookshelf. Mah Russian ain' tha greatest but 'Olympics 1984' an' 'Olympics 1988' an' so on is ah dead give away. That'n 'Balalaika' is known even in tha States as to be slang fer tha Dragunov. Wasn't hard to figger out."

"Well congratulations Country, should I call be calling you Holmes now? You beating me over the head with my past isn't going to make me change my mind."

"I'm jest tryin' to make a point."

"Well get to it then, before I shoot you out of boredom."

"We all have skeletons in our closets. Some more 'n' others. We all have strayed from where we'd planned on endin' up in life an' made plenty of mistakes 'long tha way. Again, some more 'n' others. We all had things we was gonna do, what we wanted outta life. Yers was to compete in tha Olympics. These two? Who's to say if they never are given ah chance to live their life freely? Tha's all Ah'm askin'. We may have missed our chances, our dreams in our lives. That feelin' of messin' up may eat at us from tha inside out so bad that by the time it reaches our skins, we're dead. But that don' mean we hafta take theirs away from them. Jest give 'em ah chance to do somethin' with their life besides suffer." She seemed to think about it for a moment, her brow furrowed as she planned out her response.

"And why, should I allow that to happen? What's in it for me?"

"W'all, the way I figger it, you at least ain't got nuthin' to lose. If they're gonna try an' change like they says, then you'll never haftah worry about them causin' trouble for you ever again."

"And what happens should they don't?"

"Thought you'd ask. Ah guess you'd consider me their caretaker since they's stayin' with me. That'd make me responsible fer their actions. Sooo…Ah guess you'd shoot me then." I said. That seemed to appeal to Mizz Balalaika an' she laughed at the thought, ah most unpleasant sound fer me.

"And since you wouldn't be around to complain, I suppose I'd kill them after that wouldn't I?"

"Well that'd be tha logical next step so, yeah Ah suppose." Mizz Balalaika thought it over, weighing out her options. Shoot me an' tha kids now…or let me think I got away with it an' wait fer them to shoot up ah bar or chop up the wrong man on the street and THEN shoot us. Either way she got what wanted. She couldn't see herself losing Ah guess.

"You know what Country? I think I'll play a little game with you." She said, letting off the hammer on her Stechkin. "I'm not going to kill you…today." The Stechkin went back into its holster inside her coat. "Instead, I'm going to let you try and prove me wrong. Let's suppose they do become productive citizens, then it will be as you say and I'll have nothing to worry about." She paused an' lightnin' flashed 'cross the sky, showin' her eyes, merciless as a wolf circlin' a dyin' deer. "But I know it won't happen. They are not going to change, they will never change. I'm going to enjoy every moment of watching you fail. I'll enjoy it right up to the moment I put bullets in all three your skulls." She said with a smug look that made it appear she considered herself already the winner. "You're living with two trained animals Country. Two wolves from the wild. They may have learned not to shit in the house or rip up the furniture but it's only a matter of time before their wild side comes back and they bite your head off. I wouldn't be surprised if you're found with your throat cut within the week."

"Well Ah survived tha first two weeks in one piece. Not ah bad start I'd say."

"HA! You've just been lucky." She adjusted her coat an' started to her car. She stopped and addressed Dutch. "Oh, and Dutch. From one employer to another, I would have a company meeting if I were you. Your pilot and some of your sailors have…" Her eyes flicked from me to Revy an' to Rock. "Forgotten their places." She climbed inside her car and slammed the door shut behind her. Her window dropped as she wanted to get in one last word.

"Country, don't forget that I'll be watching you and those little brats. One slip-up…" She lit up a cigar and blew a cloud of smoke out the window. "And you're dead to the world. Understand me?"

"Perfectly ma'am." I said.

"Very well. You have been warned." She put up her window an' her car rolled away into tha rainy night.

. . .

Inside the car, Balalaika pulled angrily on her cigar, burning through it at double her usual rate. Boris was silent as he tried to find words that could even begin to cover what had happened. He looked at his Capitan who was very much distressed about the evening's turn of events. She looked quite upset and stared out her window silently, watching the city lights flick by.

"Capitan? Are you feeling alright?" Boris asked. Balalaika was silent for a while, just puffing away on her cigar. Boris decided he would just wait for an answer if it ever came.

"God damn him Sergeant…" She said softly, tiredly running her fingers through her hair and holding her bangs out of her eyes as she leaned on the car door. "He just had to get them to tell their entire library of horrors, had to bring up the Olympics and jab right at my heart like that."

"Capitan, if I may speak freely?"

"Of course Sergeant." It was now Boris's turn to sit quietly as he tried to put what was on his mind in the best of phrases.

"In my years of serving at your command, I have never heard so horrid a story as theirs. I probably will not sleep tonight. What was done to them is…beyond description."

"That is all true Sergeant but what are you trying to say?"

"Miss, allow me to explain it this way. In my home, there was an old man who was a vetran of the Great Patriotic War. He had been a tank commander but his vehicle was hit with a white phosphorous shell. He lost his right leg below the knee, part of his right hand, was blind in one eye, was deaf and was horribly disfigured from the chemicals. He had no family, no friends to take care of him. He slipped into drunkenness and had a ferocious temper even when he was sober. But, every night without fail, my mother would fix a small meal, roll it up in a cloth and send me down the street to deliver it. He was always cross, usually in some stage of drunkenness. I did that every night for years. Many times he wasn't even awake when I went, passed out from drinking. I always wondered why we were so kind to such a bitter person. One day I could not wonder about it anymore and asked my mother. She said it was because 'Those who show the least kindness are often those who need kindness the most'."

"So what do you want me to do Sergeant? Bake them a cake, send a bouquet of flowers with an 'I'm sorry you had a fucked up childhood' card?"

"No, that wasn't what I meant. I'm just…thinking that we may give them a chance. A small bit of kindness on our part may go a long way on their end."

"Your old age is catching up to you Sergeant." She rolled down her window to let out some of the built up smoke. "I think you're going soft on me."

"Ma'am, perhaps we have become too hard. I have been a soldier all my life. I have done and seen things I can never forget. But for us soldiers there has always been a mission, an objective, something to accomplish and a reason for every action. Every kill is necessary, calculated. Even those children the first time they came to this city were necessary to kill. We had comrades to avenge, an organization to protect and we were preventing further deaths. And we did. But now…" Boris paused to see if Balalaika was going to stop him. She didn't and continued to watch the city pass by outside her window. "Well, you know how the men and I worry about you."

"Hmm…what of it?"

"I'm just concerned you want to kill them just for killing's sake. We do not stand to gain anything from it…"

"I think that will do Sergeant." Balalaika said as they arrived at her office. They exited the car, trying to catch the least amount of rain. Boris walked her up the front steps as he had done every night for years. Balalaika stopped at the door, looking like she had something that was weighing heavily on her mind.

"If you would listen to my thoughts for a moment Sergeant."

"Of course Capitan."

"Damn that goofball Bumpkin. God damn him, he's right." She said bitterly. "Look at us, proud and honorable soldiers reduced to gangsters. If only I could go back and set things right…"

"The Olympics ma'am?"

"Yes…maybe not even that, maybe doing things differently in the war…" She was down to the dog-end of her cigar and smoked quietly for a moment, blowing the smoke out her mouth in short, angry, puffs.

"The child from the refugee camp?" Boris asked.

"Yes…" She said and continued to smoke.

"Whatever happened to that child?"

"I don't know. Most likely it was sent back to Afghanistan and was probably dead within a week, maybe a month. If it lived through that, probably in the Mujahideen now, training to fight the next war in that shithole."

"What do you believe happened?"

"I tell myself the child was sent somewhere far away. Maybe it became a scientist, a writer, a doctor…something better than an opium grower or resistance fighter. If they were able to do that, I could sleep maybe just a little better at night."

"So what about these two, the Twins? What do you think they will do, become normal or at least something like it?"

"It's hard to say. If Two-Hands doesn't beat Country to death for tonight and Dutch doesn't fire him, I'd say that they might stand a ghost of a chance with Lagoon watching over them...of course that would be like the lunatics running the asylum. Time will be the only sure way to tell." Her cigar fizzled out and she pulled out her lighter to light it again.

"So you actually think they do stand a chance?"

"Well, anything in this world is possible I suppose. And like Country said, if they relapse, then I get to kill them…if I want to." She relit her cigar, brightening the front stoop of her office. In the light, she looked very tired, lines were starting to creep across her face and bags were forming under her eyes. 'I need a vacation' she thought.

"Are you going to tell Country you think they might make it?"

"And miss the chance to mess with the boy? Sergeant, you really don't know me after all."

. . .

"Well I hope you're fuckin' happy!" Revy hollered at me, throwin' her Cutlasses back into their holsters. "You just had to go and piss off Big Sis and paint a huge fuckin' target on all of our backs!"

"Well 'scuse me fer stoppin' her splatterin' them two all across mah runway! What did'ja want from me Mizz Revy? To jest let her kill 'em?!" I shot back as we all walked to the house and out of the rain.

"I'm still on the fence about that." Revy said, glaring at the Twins like she was waitin' fer them to sprout fangs, claws an' start attackin' whoever was within arms reach. "If they don't learn to behave themselves, I'll save Balalaika the work and kill them myself." She leaned over to talk to Hansel. "You'd better figure out how to watch that mouth of yours. Smartin' off like that in this city is gonna get you more than a few brand new assholes. And you!" She rounded on Gretel. "I don't want to be hearin' you talking any sort of weird shit with Rock again or I'll have to beat the hell out of you. Got me?!"

"Revy, take it easy on them, they just went through a lot." Rock said as he stepped on the porch. "I mean, they did just go through their entire life story."

"AND YOU!" Revy snagged Rock by tha tie an' dragged him around the side of the house, yellin' on about how she can' be protectin' his sorry ass if he's always puttin' in in tha line of fire. Their hollerin' faded out as they argued and Dutch motioned fer me to join him down tha porch, outta earshot of everyone else.

"What's up boss?" I asked, thinkin' this was gonna be a 'yer dumb ass is fired' talk. Dutch stared out across the airfield, watchin' the rain fall an' puddle in the cracks of the runway. He fiddled with the pockets of his flak jacket an' pulled out ah crumpled pack of cigarettes.

"Smoke?"

"Nah...oh what tha hell." We smoked fer ah spell an' I waited fer Dutch to say somethin'. As tha longer he didn't, I decided it was up to me to break silence.

"Am I fired?"

"HA!" Dutch laughed, a deep chuckle that sounded like ah mountain shakin'. "If I fired my sailors' everytime they did something as stupid, asinine, and suicidal as that stunt you just pulled, I would burn through three a month and Revy wouldn't have lasted her first week." He started rubbing his head, like the motion would release ah magic genie outta his ear that'd grant him three wishes to solve all his troubles. "So no, you're not fired, today." He blew out a cloud of smoke an' held his forehead with his free hand, tha day must've been gittin' to him.

"Some days I feel like I'm running a psych ward, with all of you kids as patients and it's all I can do to keep you from killing each other or getting killed by the stupid shit you get yourselves into. Now it looks like there are two more to add to the list." We looked over at tha Twins down the porch. They were talkin' to Shenhuah an' Lotton while Sawyer hid behind Shenhuah. The kids seemed to have ah natural gift of gab, or maybe jest had never had an audience that was willin' to lissen to 'em. Either way, they seemed intent on talkin' Shenhuah an' Lotton's ears off.

"Yep, seems that way. Dutch…what do you think?"

"About what?"

"Did Ah do the right thing? Do they stand ah chance? Is Mizz Balalaika seriously gonna kill 'em?"

"Well Country, I think under the circumstances and what information you knew of, you did the right thing. I would say that you still should have told me at the least about them. As far as Miss Balalaika goes, the answer to that question ought to be obvious to you. Them standing a chance, well that's different. I don't know. It will be part of us to try and shape them in a good form, but most of the responsibility for that lies with them." Dutch finished his cigarette, dropped it and crushed it out with his boot. Rock and Revy came back from around the house with Revy fumin' an' Rock lookin' like he'd jest ran through tha beaches of Normandy. Benny sheepishly reappeared from behind tha hangar an' idled up to tha porch. With everyone gathered, Dutch decided to close out tha day.

"Well people, it seems we have picked up two more misfits." He said, looking at tha Twins. "You two are going to learn to behave and listen to Country…right?" He asked sternly. The Twins nodded. "That's good to hear, but actions speak louder than words. For the next few weeks, you're on probation and under house arrest. You may be safe at this airfield and inside its fence, but there are a lot of people outside that gate who would love to get ahold of you. Country." He addressed me, but kept looking at the Twins. He was doin' it again. That stare where he looks through his sunglasses an' into yer heart, readin' people as easy as you'd read ah billboard. I wondered what he would see in the depths of their hearts.

"Yessir?"

"I'd better not have nor hear any trouble out of these two. You did well not losing your temper today with Miss Balalaika but things were still too close. Do not…screw this up."

"Ah'll do mah best Dutch. After all, its mah head that ends up on tha choppin' block if things go south."

"Good. I'm glad you understand. Now, let's all head out and get some sleep. We need to be up early tomorrow, there's a shipment for the Columbians coming in and we need to pick it up."

Everyone got in their cars an' went back to their homes fer tha night. Ah got tha Twins upstairs an' intah bed. They was tuckered out from tha day an' dropped right off to sleep. Once they were settled, I got ah beer from the fridge an' sat down on tha front porch to think. I ran over tha day in mah head, the sheer insanity of it all. Ah'd have never guessed what the Twins life was like 'fore they came wanderin' into mine. Their story was probably gonna make sleepin' fer me tonight hard. All things considered an' how it could have gone, today went alright. I figgered I could spent all night goin' over all the different ways things could go wrong fer me, worryin' about Mizz Balalaika blowin' mah head off fer tryin' to show some kindness in ah city were words like 'feelings' an' 'empathy' were four letter words, but that'd be ah waste of time. No point in worryin' about what could be comin'. Best to do is jest take things one day at ah time an' hope fer tha best.

I tossed the can into the trash an' made my way upstairs. I stopped an' peeked into tha Twins room. They were sawin' logs, passed out cold. Ah'd fixed them up with two small beds but they'd insisted on pushin' them together. They lay sleepin'like they was gittin' paid fer it, holdin' hands. Ah closed the door an' went to mah own room, fallin' back onto mah bed an' starin' up at tha ceilin'. I'd sure stuck my neck out tah-day, puttin' my life on tha line fer two kids.

"Well yah big doofus. Was it worth it?" I asked myself. "Guess you'll have to wake up tomorrow an' see."

. . .

* * *

This was an interesting chapter to write, I went through three different versions of it before I finally settled on this one. The original had everyone in Country's house for dinner and Miss Balalaika just showed up unannounced. Scrapped that. Next was kind of the same but Country and Miss Balalaika slug it out, knives and brass knuckles get pulled and it gets really ugly...also scrapped. The more I read it, the goofier and dumber it sounded. I mean, honestly: If Country and Miss Balalaika got into a fistfight, there's no way Country is walking away from that because...Spetznaz. So this is what I ended with and I hope you enjoyed it. As always, feel free to review and let me know how I'm doing.


	8. Chapter 8

Ahhhhhh...for better or worse finals for the summer are over! I can finally get back to my favorite band of modern day pirates. This is the longest chapter I have written yet, hopefully it isn't TOO long. I have been meaning to cut down on chapter length, it's a struggle to say the least. It'll get better though, reading should be fun, not work. Anyway, I hope you have fun with this one.

* * *

"You idiots! You fools!" The Benefactor howled; smacking every part of The Doctor and The Intern he could reach with his cane. "I gave you a month to find those little shits and this is what I get?! All my money has been wasted on a pair of hacks, you useless, stupid, sons of bitches…_blearghh! Hack! Hack Hack!_" The Benefactor's tirade was interrupted by a coughing fit and he doubled over as he struggled to make his lungs behave. He finally recovered and gestured for his assistant that had been standing by the door.

"Call the office. Tell them I'll be late."

"Yes sir." He replied in a thick Eastern European accent.

"Thank you Silas. Back to you dipshits." The Benefactor wheezed, still coughing into his kerchief. "Now, I think we should run over everything again. So tell me…what exactly the fuck happened?"

"Okay…well…uhm…it seems our experiment was successful this time around." The Doctor said, rubbing his forehead where The Benefactor had whacked it with his cane. "They came out of the coma on their own."

"Well no shit Sherlock! Otherwise they would still be here, wouldn't they? I'm asking how they got out. Didn't I specifically allot money for a security system that lets nothing in or OUT?"

"Yes, you did sir. I'm still not sure what could have caused a fault. It was the best system we could purchase in our budget and hasn't failed us yet. We checked the system again and again and it seems to be fine."

"Well then it was human error." The Benefactor deduced. He glared at The Doctor and The Intern, like he was looking for a guilty face. "So which one of you dumbasses forgot to lock the door?"

"Well it couldn't have been me. I was stuck in traffic all evening." The Doctor said, nervously looking past The Benefactor at Silas. The man wasn't tall, but was powerfully built. It looked like he'd been breaking rocks for a living and his features looked like he had been using his head to do so. Small scars and knicks crisscrossed his face and buzz-cut scalp, his forehead furrowed in a heavy brow line with deep set eyes that peered out suspiciously at everything around them.

"Oh, don't mind Silas." The Benefactor laughed, noticing The Doctor's and The Intern's nervous looks. "He's harmless…unless I tell him otherwise. Now, since it wasn't you Doc, then it must've been you kid."

"Are you sure it wasn't the system? What about another way out? Maybe there is an entrance, like a duct or something out of here we haven't checked." The Intern said as he tried to cover his ass.

"Boy, you do remember which organization I'm in charge of right?"

"Yes sir, I do."

"Good, good. Now, do you know what happens when one of my people fucks up?"

"N…no."

"Well, it's very simple in my organization." The Benefactor said, switching his cane from his right to left hand. Silas turned and moved to block the front and only door as he recognized his boss's movement. "I have three rules for my people and those who work for me. Do as you're told, produce results and don't fuck up. Break a rule and you suffer the consquences. Now, since it wasn't the doctor, wasn't the system, that only leaves you at fault here…right?"

"Okay, for fuck's sake! I'll admit it. I forgot to arm the system. I'm sorry alright? It was a mistake!"

"A mistake! A mistake, Silas, listen to this kid. It was a huge fucking mistake you damn shit for brains, one that has cost me close to a million bucks. And now, that mistake is also running around somewhere in this city."

"I'm sorry alright? I really, really am."

"Oh, I bet you are." The Benefactor rolled his eyes. "I suppose you want me to give you another shot…"

"Sir, I promise this will never, ever happen again." The Intern said; breathing an internal sigh of relief as The Benefactor's tone softened. Maybe he wasn't getting fired after all he thought.

"You know what sonny? You're absolutely right. This will never, ever happen again." The Benefactor said as he reached into his coat and drew his Ruger Super Redhawk: Six shots of 0.44 Magnum, five-and-a-half inch barrel, custom nickle plated. _Ba-WHOOM! Ba-WHOOM!_ The first two rounds blasted their way through The Intern's intestines, splattering them through two gaping holes out his back all across the stark white wall behind him. His body was knocked backwards and smashed into the wall where it collapsed in a pool of his own innards. Three more rounds slammed into his torso, _Ba-WHOOM!...Ba-WHOOM!...Ba-WHOOM!_ The Intern's chest was crushed under the force of the rounds, hollowpoint bullets turning his lungs and heart into jelly. _Ba-WHOOM!_ The last round entered through the center of his forehead, dragging his brain along with it and a spray of matter and blood erupted through the hole in the back of his skull. The pattern reached all the way up to the ceiling and slowly started to drip back down in bloody streaks.

"Nope…will never happen, ever again." The Benefactor said, holding his gun down at his side, swinging it back and forth. "Will it Doc?" The Doctor nodded profusely as he stood in shock with flecks of blood across his face and glasses. "Glad to hear it. Now, I want to know what you plan to do about your little project here. I've already given you a month that you have squandered."

"Well, I still have to find the two children, or at least one of them, so I can study them and make sure that everything worked properly. Their brains must be working correctly, all organs are functioning; I have to be certain that it isn't a temprorary fix that'll have them dead again in another month."

"Well they have a pretty good headstart. So if I were you, I'd make it a priority." The Benefactor said as he put his gun away. "Oh, and hire yourself a new intern. Try and get someone who isn't such a forgetful numb-nuts. I'll advance some money for you to work with."

"Thank you for the second chance sir, I won't fail you!"

"You already have failed me. Just don't fuck it up anymore. If you can't handle that, well…" The Benefactor poked the oozing body of The Intern with his cane. The body slipped down the wall and slumped to the floor with a wet squelch. "You know what to expect." The Benefactor turned to leave and was almost to the door when he stopped for one last reminder. "I'll be calling again in a month or so and you'd better have good news."

. . .

"Is everything alright ma'am?"

"Yes Sergeant…as alright as it can be I suppose." Balalaika pulled on her cigar and stared off over the harbor with a tired look that Boris had seen many times. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, bloodshot from staring at a computer screen all day. It had been eight long hours of editing pornos again, a job that she was seriously considering passing along. She wondered if Dutch would let her borrow Benny and Jane to do the work for her…

"Oh, an assignment for the Visotoniki?" Boris was looking over some of the papers scattered across the desk.

"Something I think we should look into. I'm going to assign just one squad, but may need to add more."

"The lab I'd imagine?"

"Astute as always Sergeant. How could I resist? A lab where some mad scientist brought two people back to life…imagine what we could do with an asset like that."

"It would be incredible to see how it actually works. Someone figured out how to play God."

"It would be indeed, but we first have to find it. So far nothing has turned up. It has to be a very small scale operation to be hidden from us for so long. Then again, this city is filled with so many basements, attics and little holes it would take years to search every single one. Hopefully whoever runs it hasn't skipped town."

"If it's out there we will find it."

"I just hope we do before someone else does. So far, I think only Lagoon, Misses Sawyer and Shenhuah and Mr. Lotton know about it outside from us. However, Miss Shenhuah does work for Chang; it is possible she has let slip about the lab and the Twins…"

"Do you think Lagoon will do any searching for it on their own?"

"I hope not. Between you and me Sergeant…but if Lagoon wanted and put their minds to it, they could probably turn this city upside down. In the event they get any ideas it is in our best interest to move quickly."

"I could not agree more, on both accounts."

"Well let's go assemble the squad and brief them." Balalaika stood and crushed out the stub of her cigar. She and Boris walked outside where her car was already waiting. As she walked down the front steps a B-24J Liberator roared overhead just above rooftop level, causing Balalaika to duck as the prop wash whipped up a stiff breeze. A shark mouth painted on the nose grinned menacingly down at her as it passed over. The plane waggled its wings in salute and buzzed off over the harbor, heading toward the airfield.

"He's doing it again Sergeant." Balalaika scowled as she watched the plane dissapear. "That's the third time this week."

"I'm sure Two-Hands put's Country up to it." Boris said, trying not to laugh.

. . .

"Since when am Ah in tha phone book?" I asked Mr. Chang, very confused. I was in the kitchen havin' my mornin' coffee. The Twins were runnin' round outside like ah buncha hooligans as they ought to be.

"Since the airfield is listed in your name now. It seems the city council approved your application."

"Did they now? 'Bout damn time. Slower than molasses in winter they are. What lit ah fire under their behinds?"

"A visit from your friendly neighborhood Russian mafia and Chinese triad heads tends to speed things along."

"You an' Miss Balalaika huh? Awful kindly of her, considerin' ah couple of weeks ago…"

"Don't get me wrong, she's still not happy with you. But she's smart enough to know good business, and people for that matter, when she sees them. Is the plane ready?"

"Anytime, anywhere, "Roanapur Raider" will get yah there. Ah'm ready to go."

"Glad to hear it. I'm having some guests in from the Golden Triangle, and would prefer an…off the record transport for them."

"Ah know 'xactly whatcha mean Mr. Chang. No plane ticket, no cameras, no customs officers, no paper trail or image on a film reel. Same's tha militia back home."

"Right on. Is the rest of Lagoon there yet?"

"Uh, Ah'd be waitin' on em. They had tah go an' git Revy. She ain't exactly ah mornin' person."

"No, no she isn't. I heard about your two wards through the grapvine. I'm still not sure if you made the right call or not. As it stands, I don't have any bad blood with them so you don't worry about anything from my end."

"Well that's good to hear Mr. Chang. Ah 'preciate it, one less thing on my plate tah deal with."

"Not a problem. Good luck on your flying today Country."

. . .

"Gah! This sucks!" Revy groaned from the back of the GTO. "It's too early; decent people are still sleeping right now yah know! Why so fuckin' early?"

"It's almost nine, it's not that early." Benny said. "And you whining about it isn't gonna make it any better."

"It's because we've got passengers to pick up for Mr. Chang. We'd have taken the Lagoon but he wants them here yesterday, so airplane it is." Dutch said, not looking happy in the least about going back to the Triangle…again. Going during the Vietnam War was bad; going back with the Lovelace kid after his maid was just as bad and now again.

"Still don't see why they couldn't just hop a regular flight if it's so damn important." Revy grumbled.

"Well, ever since the American team went in, during the whole Lovelace affair, there has been a power vacuum." Rock said, remembering all the research he'd done on the area. "The smaller groups have been fighting it out to see who would replace the general that was taken out. I'm pretty sure we're going to pick up and bring the winners of that war here for a meet and greet."

"Wonderful! Corporate style politics on a criminal level." Benny remarked. "Maybe Chang will ask for your assistance in the merger eh Rock?"

"Ha! I don't think I could even so much as file a report now, it's been so long." Rock laughed, the offices, cubicles, meetings and memos of Asahi Heavy Industries never had felt so far away…

"Hey, that sign is new." Benny noticed as they pulled up at the turn-off for the airfield's driveway. A large, hand painted wooden sign had been planted on the front lawn along the two-track road, just outside the gate. It read, in big block letters:

**Welcome to Roanapur International Airfield!**

**Home of the Sharkmouth Airforce:**

**A Division of Lagoon Company.**

**Hangars for rent, inquire within.**

**ELV: 357 FT ASL**

Past that sign was the fence that ran around the entirety of the airfield, the gate, the old guard post and another smaller sign. Planted next to that sign was a shooting backstop with a human silhouette target nailed to it. The smaller sign read:

_I have measured this gate to be 534 yards from my house. I also have acquired an M14A1 rifle that can make a two-inch group from the comfort of my front porch. So if you don't belong here or your name is Mr. Lin, get lost and stay there: YOU ARE IN RANGE._

The silhouette target had five holes in the head in a pattern the size of a baseball. There were ten holes in the X-ring in a pattern the size of a fist. There were five more holes in another baseball sized pattern where the groin would be on the target. Scrawled in the corner of the target was: _"0.308 WIN 175gr. BTHP, 48gr Hodgdon, 8/10, Wnd 10mph NNW, Rng 600yds"_

"Wheeeeeeww…" Benny whistled as he read the sign and looked at the target. "Country sure isn't screwing around."

"Maybe I should get a target like that for the office." Dutch pondered, smiling at the warning to any ner-do-wellers.

. . .

I chugged the rest of mah coffee as the GTO pulled up. As everyone got out, Ah called to the Twins an' stepped off the porch.

"Kids! C'mere, Ah'm headin' out!" They hustled on over an' beamed up at me.

"Don't worry about us." Hansel said. "We'll be fine here."

"Ah sure yah will be, but let's go over everythin' one last time." I knelt down so I was eye tah eye with them. "What are the rules when Ah'm gone?"

"Don't play with any of the equipment in the hangar, stay off the Corsair, keep out of the liquor cabinet, don't eat all the cookies because they'll rot our teeth and don't spend all our time watching the TV because it'll rot our brains." Gretel rattled off.

"Good, 'cept yah forgot one."

"Don't go to town unless it's an emergency?"

"Yes…but not what Ah was lookin' fer."

"Oh that. No ordering pizza at three in the morning and waking decent people up to pay for it." The kids turned red as they recalled the night they figgered out how tah order pizza over the phone. They got pepperoni, sausage. bacon an' anchovy to 'Just try it'.

"Tha's better. Guns are?"

"Shotgun in the kitchen behind the cabinet, Thompsons in the living room couch-safe and under the coffee table, the M14 is in your room in the closet, a 1911 in the hall closet on its hook and an M1 Carbine in the back room behind the door."

"Good memory. Who do we NOT SHOOT?"

"Mr. Chang, Miss Balalaika or any of their people, the man with the refueling truck, Miss Eda, Mr. Rico or Miss Yolanda from the Church, or Miss Sawyer, Miss Shenhuah or Mr. Lotton."

"Who ain't welcome here?"

"Anyone from Mr. Lin, or Mr. Lin, people from the bank, people from the tax office, police without warrants, and the creepy doctor looking guy who showed up last week." Gretel and Hansel finished in unison.

"Excellent, very good." I smiled proudly at them an' gave them ah good-bye hug. "As long as yah don' burn tha place down y'all be fine. Miss Sawyer is gonna drop by tah check on yah an' Miss Shenhuah an' Mister Lotton will be 'round too. Don' scare Miss Sawyer like last time." They'd gotten some red food colorin', mixed it with corn starch, slathered it on themselves an' then laid out in the livin' room floor like they'd murdered each other. When Miss Sawyer opened the door, they got up an' started runnin' at her, sayin' that they wanted tah devour her soul or somethin' along those lines. I found Miss Sawyer hidin' in ah barracks closet, curled up in ah little ball. She'd locked tha door an' refused to come out fer an hour.

I stood and walked to the plane, parked on the runway fifty yards away. Everyone else had clambered inside and was ready fer take-off. I plopped down in mah seat an' started up Engine Number Three.

"Do you really think it's going to be alright, leaving them here alone?" Rock asked from the nose turret.

"Eh, what's tha worst trouble they can git into?"

"You did give them guns…sure that's a good idea?" Benny asked.

"Well Benny, even though the bounty on them was cancelled officially months ago, there's still some wackos in this city who would like to get their hands on them." Dutch said as he settled in the copilot's seat. "That and someone has to keep watch over the airfield while we're gone. I think it's a good idea letting them defend themselves, they're certainly more than capable."

"An' besides Benny, I'd rather they use guns than…other methods." I added as Engine Number One turned over. "There's ah whole lotta stuff in tha hangars that they could use fer weapons. Chainsaws, wrenches, axes, sledgehammers, pliers, shovels, screwdrivers…"

"Okay, I get it. Can we go now?"

"Up an' away we go, be sure tah wave goodbye! It may be yer last look at Roanapur, yah never know!"

. . .

The _Roanapur Raider_ hadn't been aloft for more than ten minutes and Revy was already bored.

"Hey Country!" She called from the forward bomb bay deck. "Do we get like, an inflight movie or something?"

"Yah didn' fuss much on tha last few trips." Country said; his seat pushed all the way back and his feet up on the dash.

"That's because I was hung over and just passed out over the Philippines. Today I'm not so lucky. How the hell did you fly this thing from the States to Thailand by yourself without going insane?" She paused for a moment and didn't hear an immediate answer so she lamented again how bored she was.

"Oh quit yer belly-achin'. Here!" From the cockpit in front and above Revy flew a paper-back book. It landed on the deck and slid next to her legs.

"I don't wanna read a stupid book!" She yelled back over the engines.

"Well with wind an' our course, it's gonna be at least four hours 'till wheels down so that's yer only entertainment. 'Sides, readin's good fer yah, expands yer mind."

Revy snatched up the book and flipped through its pages.

"There aren't even any pictures in here! What kind of stupid book doesn't have pictures?" She kept skimming pages, looking for something interesting. "I don't even know half these words in here!" _Whack!_ A dictionary thrown from the cockpit bounced off her head.

"Nice try, but this word isn't even in here!" _Bonk!_ A thesaurus soared through the air and bounced off Revy's shoulder. "Do you have a damn library up there?!"

"C'mon up an' see." Revy stood, walked to the nose of the plane and climbed up to the flight deck. Dutch was sitting on the right in the copilot's seat and already absorbed in his copy of "The Sayings of Chairman Mao". Country was on the left in the pilot's seat, feet up and seat back. To his left and behind him in every storage slot and shelf were books. They were titles Revy had never heard of: Catch-22, 1984, Beowulf, The Canterbury Tales, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, The Illiad, The Odyssey, Hell's Angels, High Noon at Lincoln, Animal Farm, The War of The Worlds, Robinson Crusoe and others. There were technical drawings of B-24J Liberators and F4U-4 Corsairs, manuals on electronics, navigation, hydraulics, an entire volume dedicated to rotary engines, flight manuals from Cessna, Piper and Cirrus and a few well-worn encyclopedias.

"What the hell is all this for?"

"Well hell, Ah'm flyin' fer anywhere's of 3 uptah 14 hours when Ah goes anywhere. What am Ah 'sposed tah do tha whole time; have ah four way with Pamela Handerson an' her kinky friends Rosy Palms an' Jill? 'Specially when most ah tha flight's over op'n water. Ain't ah whole lot tah see there." Country paused to make an adjustment to the controls.

"Tell me this Mizz Revy. Where does power come from?" Country asked.

"Tch! From the barrel of a gun obviously."

"Sorry, tah be ah Johnny Raincloud, but yer wrong. Ah gun is ah tool an ah right powerful one, but if yah don' know how tah use it, its limits and capabilities an' tha tactics best suited for it, yah may's well throw rocks."

"So where does power come from then, O wise one?" Revy mocked.

"Knowledge." Country said. The intercom was on and everyone's ears pricked up at that declaration. "Knowledge is real power. If Ah give you ah gun, you can rob ah bank sure. But, if Ah give you tha knowledge on how tah run ah bank, stocks, bonds, securities, how economies fluctuate an' tick, how markets are made an' broken, tha psychology of tha human mind an' how to manipulate it…you can rob ah country or even tha world."

"So what's that got to do with your collection?" Revy asked, seeming more interested after the mention of robbing the world.

"Everythin'! Why'd ya think Dutch here reads so much? Keeps him informed, his mind fresh, new information tah bring intah play. Know how he's always sayin' he 'Did ah little research'? That's new knowledge right there, makin' him more powerful than his 'pponent."

"I can see that, but what about your pile of crap specifically?"

"Mizz Revy, this may be ah s'prise tah you, but Ah wadn' born smart. Ah ain't naturally good at anythin' 'cept maybe weldin' an' bullshittin'. Everythin' 'bout planes, flyin', guns, science, chemistry, math, hist'ry, plants 'n' animals an so on Ah've read 'bout an' had tah learn. Ah got made fun of ah lot cause of how Ah talk, how Ah sound 'cause it makes me sound like ah Bev'rly Hillbilly an' dumber than ah bag of hammers. Ah'm ah good shot an' strong sure, but no one takes yah seriously when yer dumb, no matter how many guns yah got. That an' bein' ignorant is what got me suckered into tha militia in the first place an' I'm not 'bout to let it happen again. Ah started readin' all tha time an' still do. Tha's how yer intellect grows, how yah work out an' exercise yer brain, learnin'. Why do yah think Rock is such ah know-it-all some days? 'Cause tha man reads an' knows ah thing er two. It wouldn' hurt yah to try an' do tha same."

"Whatever. Sounds like a load of crap to me." Revy turned to go back to the bomb bay deck.

"How's bout this? What if ah told yah that there's ways tah insult Eda without her bein' none-tha-wiser in some-ah these books?" Revy stopped immediately and was back up the ladder in two jumps. "Example. Yo, Dutch." Dutch looked up from his book as Country made a show of dramatically biting down on his thumb. Dutch chuckled at Country, still with his thumb between his teeth.

"Oh, I see how it is. Okay, let's see if I remember this one, it's been a while…ahem. Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?"

"Ah do bite mah thumb, sir."

"Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?"

"No sir, Ah do not bite mah thumb at you, sir, but Ah do bite my thumb, sir."

"Do you quarrel?"

"Quarrel! Them's fightin' words!"

"If you do, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you."

"No better."

"Say 'Better': Here comes one of my master's kinsmen."

"Draw! If yea be men! Benny!" Country yelled as Benny popped up from his station under the flight deck, wondering just what in the hell Country and Dutch were prattling on about. "Remember thy swashin' blow!"

_Whack!_ Dutch reached out and flipped Country's hat off his head.

"There, I drew. Now be quiet so I can read in peace."

"Ah, Romeo, Juliet and biting your thumb, Country?" Benny asked. He looked up at Revy who was terribly confused. "Biting your thumb at someone is an old sign of disrespect. I can't recall why, but people would fight each other over it." Benny explained.

"Well shit, why didn't you say so sooner?" Revy asked, clearly excited about slipping in some jibes at Eda. "Which books have the good insults in them?"

"Oh…Ah dunno…" Country said as he put his hat back on and got resettled in his seat. "Ah ain't ah gonna tell yah neither. You'll jest hafta read 'em all Ah guess…Ah mean, 'less yah think you can' handle that…"

"Oh yeah Bumpkin?! You think you're so damn smart an' cultured. I'm gonna read the shit outta this book before we land!" Revy turned, jumped down to the bomb bay deck and started reading.

"Which one did you give her?" Dutch asked.

"One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." Country grinned.

"Oh come on, that's wrong."

"Ah book 'bout crazy people fer ah crazy woman…seemed fittin'."

"Okay, whatever Country." Dutch smiled a little at Country's joke. "How much longer to the Triangle?"

"Oh, I reckon three an' ah half hours."

"Think she's going to finish the book in that time?" Benny asked.

"Noooooo, not ah chance. At least it'll keep her busy…an' quiet. Can't be gittin' intah shenanigans with her nose in ah book can she?" Dutch and Benny looked dumbfounded and wondered why they hadn't thought of trying it as a solution to Revy's antics when she got bored.

"Well played Country." Benny said as he accepted a dog-eared copy of "The Hunt for The Red October" for himself and "The Red Badge of Courage" for Rock. "Well played."

. . .

The B-24J touched gently down onto a cleared jungle strip, the landing gear barely missing rooftops as they approached. Their passengers had yet to arrive so Lagoon dispersed into town for the next few hours. Once the post flight checks were complete, Country unrolled a mattress under the shade of the wings, pulled his hat over his eyes, folded his arms on his chest and went to sleep.

Rock and Revy wandered around town, passing a cigarette back and forth as they walked the dirt roads. The cigarette was an obscure brand, Country had given Rock a pack of them and said he and Revy 'outta try 'em out' and Rock was not one to turn down a free smoke. As they walked, Rock noticed this town was like a small-scale Boondocks version of Roanapur. Prostitutes in tank-tops and short-shorts lazily loitered around the only bar, the place was lit up with red Christmas lights. A truck filled with heavily armed local gang soldiers rumbled down the main road, a cloud of dust left in its wake. Marijuana grew openly in the ditch alongside the road or in carefully tended gardens; sharing a plot with poppy plants and the family vegetables.

"Sooooo…Rock." Revy said as they plopped onto a bench near the town's center. "What do you think power comes from? A gun…or knowledge?"

"I think Country was right." Rock mused, lighting another cigarette from the pack Country had given him. They were really good. "I mean, that's how I've survived in Roanapur as long as I have without carrying a gun everywhere."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Well, dealing with the Rip-Off Church the first time for example. I was able to use my knowledge of their drug operation and the discrepancies in the number of guns they were shipping to make Sisters Yolanda and Eda see things our way. You were ready to shoot it out right there in the Church. See, knowledge trumps gun."

"Wooo…one good example. Pretty pathetic case yah got there."

"What about the day at the market, after the submarine? You couldn't even do me in with a gun to my head…speaking of which…" Rock looked over at Revy with a hazy grin, the cigarette dangling precariously from his lips. "Just admit already…you would miss me if I hadn't grabbed your gun."

"Yah got lucky." Revy took the cigarette back and puffed away. "But…" She trailed off, smoke curling around her head. The town was hidden from view above by the trees and thick canopy, no breeze came down to waft the accumulating smoke away from their bench.

"But what?" Rock asked. Revy took another pull before answering.

"Well…you can be a real dumbass some days. But it seems I'm stuck with you…can' seem tah get rid of you even if I tried." For Rock, he figured that was as clear of a response as he could hope for. Revy never really said what was truly going on in her heart or mind directly.

"Well, that's true…I guess I should say thanks. So…thank you." Rock said as he smiled stupidly.

"Whatever. You've turned out alright Rock. Improved ah bit from tryin' tah jump ship with only ah life jacket." Revy dropped the butt of the cigarette and reached into Rock's shirt pocket for another. 'Man, these are good cigarettes' she thought. Her fingers fumbled with the pack as she tried to open it one handed and Rock was content to watch her struggle. Another lazy thirty seconds ticked by.

"Oh here…yah klutz." Rock took Revy's hand out of his pocket and opened the pack for her. He lit up and held it for her. She leaned over from her end of the bench to take it from him, but lost her balance and slumped onto his shoulder.

"Oops!" She giggled as she pushed off Rock to straighten herself. Rock raised an eyebrow as Revy laughed; a girlish giggle from Revy…that was different.

"What kind of cigarettes are these anyway?" She asked, gazing at the one in her hand.

"I dunno…" Rock pulled the pack out of his pocket again. He fumbled and nearly dropped it as he turned the pack over in his hands. "Country gave 'em to me, said they's really good…" The label wasn't one Rock recognized. It just had a man and girl on it that looked like they were from the American Roaring Twenties, sharing a cigarette between the two of them. The label simply read: _Good Times Cigarettes_.

"Speakin' ah Bumpkin…" Revy said, turning her body to better face Rock. "Whaddaya make of him? Think he passed his probation fer workin' with us?"

"Well…he seems alright Ah 'spose." Rock rubbed his face; it felt slightly tingly and numb. 'Must be somethin' I ate…' he thought. "He's ah bit 'ccentric an' kinda crazy at times…weird ah him takin' tha Twins in…"

"Yeah!" Revy folded her arms on the back of the bench and rested her head on them, staring at Rock. "That's jest so…weird…ain' it? She looked confused, her brow furrowed as she tried to clear her hazed-out brain. "Who'd have thunk it they would be back an' walkin' around? Especially in Roanapur of all placshes."

"It IS weird…" Rock agreed, hooking his arms behind the bench and staring up at the canopy of trees. "I mean…Gretel told me they couldn' die. Ah thought it was… 'cause they was crazy…"

"Ah know right? That'n some malarkey about them changin' an' schtuff…" Revy tugged on Rocks sleeve and he turned his head slowly to look at her. In what Rock was sure to be a hallucination, Revy was staring at him with a never before seen look of adorability. Her normally sharp and alert amber eyes were now filled with a chocolaty haze and she had a pout on her lips where a snarl normally was.

"It's not faaaaiirrr…" She whined, still playing with his sleeve. "How's come they get ah go-around? My life sucks toooo…Why'd they get lucky an' run intah some hick goofball like Country?" She fidgeted on the bench, scooting closer to Rock. "Ah mean, he ain' gonna hit 'em an' beat 'em or leave 'em on tha curb. He's nice to them…Hey, hey! Do, do you know wha' he did tha other day?"

"I have…no idea. Wha'd he do Revy?" Rock forced his mouth to move.

"Tha mooovies Rocky. He took them liddle twerps to tha movies. They'd told him they never heard ah Star Wars an' he gits in one'ah his funny moods, picks 'em up an' throws em in his truck an' then guess what?"

"What?"

"They actually went to tha movies!...like…all day!" She sighed heavily, her shoulders rose and fell and a lock of reddish-plum bangs fell onto her face. She blew on the hair to get it out of her face, trying and failing several times, going slightly cross-eyed as she glared at her hair.

"Stop it!" She swatted Rock's shoulder as he laughed at her. "Don' laugh at meeeee…" She kept swatting his shoulder but her arm got tired so she just let it fall onto his. Rock just let her arm lay and enjoyed the cigarette.

"Hey. Gimme." She pointed at the cigarette he was letting smolder. He took a last pull and gave it to her. She took a pull herself and let it dangle from her lips.

"The Twins er sooo lucky. They gotta secon' chance, some one tah take care of 'em…an even goes tah tha movies wid them…" She paused, staring through the increasing cloud of smoke hanging around their bench. "No one takes me to tha movies…" She said sadly.

The thought had never occurred to Rock, but now that he reflected on it, Revy didn't really seem to have any friends. Well, at least any friends outside of work. That and he had no idea what she did in her spare time. For all he knew, she had no hobbies at all except for shooting and trying to slowly kill herself by cirrhosis of her liver. Eda was one possible candidate, but the two of them fought, bickered and had their guns on each other at least once a month…so that didn't quite count. Rock thought about the Twins for a moment and how they had changed. Could really just being a decent human being to someone be enough to change a person? With the Twins at least it sure seemed possible but that remained a work in progress. Maybe Revy was the same…no. She may be too far gone to completely fix, damaged goods Eda had once said. But, Rock reasoned there still was something in her left saving. There was only one way to really find out and see if Revy could truly smile just once.

"Well…may-bay you 'n' I can go sometime." Rock suggested carefully. Revy's eyes lit up at the offer.

"Really? Wait…why? Yer too nice…" She pulled again on the cigarette, eyeing him curiously. "Why're you always so nice tah me? I'm always hittin' yah an' yellin' at yah….I tried tah shoot yah more'n once…I'm not worth tha effort."

"There's ah sayin' that goes: Those who show tha least kindness is tha ones who need it most." Rock said as he took the cigarette back.

"Oh wow…that's like…really deep 'n' shit Rocky." Revy scooted more along the bench so she was right next to him. "You…you're really smart yah know that? You really are." Seemingly worn from the act of talking, Revy slumped against Rock, her head nestled in the crook of his left shoulder. They sat that way for a while, staring off into space. Both felt quite comfortable leaning on the other and didn't feel inclined to move. Well, except for another hit at the sweet, sweet cigarette. Revy looked up at Rock and the cig slowly smoldering in his mouth.

"Gimmeee…" She reached up to try and pluck it from his mouth but Rock turned his head away. She kept grabbing at it, missing and instead was pawing his face.

"C'mon…don' be such an ass…" She whined, almost putting his eye out with a sharp fingernail. "Quit hoggin' it!" Rock managed to take the cig from his mouth into his right hand. Now she was stretched across him, her arms just short enough to not reach. She sat up on her knees, putting her right hand on his left shoulder for balance. Her bare stomach was mashed against his face and her breasts rested on his head as her fingers scrabbled along his arm. As she wriggled on top of him, Rock had an idea. It was stupid idea from an addled brain, and he knew it, but was determined to try anyway.

"Hey…hey!" He managed to get her attention.

"What?" She panted, out of breath.

"If you don' quit, I'm liable to drop this cig."

"So?"

"It's tha last one." Her eyes grew wide, now she really wanted it…the cigarette that is.

"An' I'll give it to yah…but not fer free." He grinned at her as she eyed him suspiciously.

"Ah dunno Rock…yah got that look on yer facshe."

"What look?" He asked innocently.

"Tha shame look yah had when yah set-up that…that one thing, wid tha maid 'n' Lovelace."

"Whut? This? It's…uh, it's…ah favor face…yeah. It's how Ah look when I'm gonna ask someone sumthin'."

"An wha's that? Whaddaya wan' fer tha last cig?" She worked out, wondering just what he was playing at behind that smile.

"All Ah wan' is ah kiss." Not what she had expected…but he wasn't laughing. He didn't point his finger at her surprised face and say "Gotcha!" He just sat still, waiting as the cigarette smoldered and the cloud of smoke surrounding them grew ever thicker. He smiled and greedily took a pull. Revy noticed that Rock's eyes, usually far away and lost in some sentimental thought, were now clear and focused solely on her.

"W…why tha'? Typical of you, some shtupid, mushy…shtuff…" She said, but as she wavered, a little color started to flush into her face.

"Ain' got all day Revy…" He took a pull and several millimeters of cigarette burned forever up. "It's 'most half gone…"

"Maybe I'll jest shoot yah an' take it…how's that?"

"But Ah might…drop it intah this puddle if yah do that…" Rock held his hostage over a puddle next to the bench. "It'll get all wet AN' you'll hafta lissen to me complain 'bout gittin' shot."

"Who said yah'd still be livin' tah bitch?"

"Benefit of tha doubt. Now…" He pointed at the corner of his mouth with his free hand. "Let's go already."

"No."

"Wuss." Where did that come from?

"Not happenin'."

"C'mon, right here."

"Nuh-uh."

"Let's go."

"Nada from me. Got beat off 'er somethin'."

"Yer jest chicken…aren't yah?" 'Oh really, I am, are I?' she thought.

"You callin' me chicken?"

"Yep…an' yer ah scardey-cat too."

"Am not."

"Is too." He sure was starting to get on her nerves. But, at the same time, he was actually showing some bravado for a change. Was it the cigarettes or did he finally grow a pair of balls she didn't know. What she did know was that she was…kind of enjoying it.

"If yah aren' then prove it."

"Fine." Hardly believing what the afternoon had devolved to, Revy leaned over and planted a small, dry and very quick kiss on his cheek, at the corner of his mouth. With that out of the way, she sat back and held out her hand.

"Now wha' was that?" He asked, scooting towards her down the bench. "That was like tha quickie kiss yah give yer grandma."

"Well…wha' do you know? What makes you sech ah suckin' face expert?" She huffed. "Ah ain' 'xactly seen yah walkin' round town with ah harem ah girlfrien's…you ain' even checked out any far's Ah seen…" Then she added in a voice that was pure tease "Yah could be queer fer all Ah know." She laughed and poked him in the chest with a rather sharp fingernail.

Rock had finally reached his limit of patience with Revy. With her it was always nothing but tease, tease, and more tease. 'Well.' He though as he took one last pull; 'I'll just have to prove her wrong." He grabbed her hand, stopping her laugh instantly. Then, her eyes went wide with surprise as he said:

"Ah wan' ah kiss an' I'm ah gettin' one." He jerked her towards him and mashed their lips together. In her shock, she'd clamped her mouth closed, shutting him out. His tongue swept over her lips, probing for an opening. Frustrated, he growled softly in his throat and bit her lower lip. At her gasp of pain, he used the opportunity to push his tongue through her lips and into her mouth.

He ran his tongue over hers, delighting how it sought his out from instinct, inquiring about the new object in her mouth. He continued over her teeth and the rest of her mouth, savoring every taste. She tasted of the cigarettes they'd been sharing and the sharpness of rum on her tongue. She'd probably had a drink to get her day started right but he didn't care. At any moment she could come screaming back to her usual self and implant a few 9mm hollow-points into his crotch...or at least bite his tongue off. But, he was feeling way too good to reflect on that and was going to enjoy the moment as long as it lasted.

If she had known just how good he was at sucking face, she'd have let him do this a long time ago. She hadn't been kissed in…well…a while. The last time certainly was nowhere as memorable or passionate. She'd thought he'd be some namby-pamby about it but the force, the suddenness and power he was showing…The hum of his throat when he growled and bit her lip, it made her spine shiver. This was not the goody two-shoes she had held hostage a year and a half ago. This was a different person; The Man she had suspected was hiding under the collared shirt and tie. This person had just been waiting for a moment to come out and play a little bit. He could vanish again as quickly as he'd appeared, but she was going to enjoy the moment as long as it lasted.

Their lungs on fire from lack of air and nearly getting sucked out of their mouths, they broke off the kiss. Both were dizzy for a moment, air rushing to their chests and their hearts hammering against their sternums. For a while, the gunslinger and businessman slumped against the other on the bench, grinning sheepishly. He held out the last remaining dog-end of the cigarette. She took it and pulled on it so hard that the embers nearly burned her fingers.

"Now." He slid his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him. "Was tha' so bad?" He felt that flutter turn to a full-on roar as Revy blushed and said:

"No…yah shouldah done it sooner…what took yah so long?"

"Well I wouldah…"

"Why…why didn' you then?"

"I dunno. May-bay it wuzz all tha previous trends." A small thought nagged at him in the back of his brain…something important. He glanced down at his watch…damn. It'd been hours since they'd sat down, time to go back to the plane. He forced himself to stand; feeling like his joints had rusted over. "Like, tha times yah DID try tah shoot me…threat'n'd tah gut me…gouge mah eyeballs out with ah fork…cut mah balls off 'n' feed em to me on ah skewer…neuter me with ah rusty spoon…"

"Yeah…yeah." She dismissed his evidence with a wave of her hand. "Gotta keep yah in line sailor, keeps yah from…shit." She tried to stand too but her knees knocked together and then her legs gave out. With her face flushed, a stubborn pout on kiss-swollen lips and looking flustered as can be, Rock couldn't help but smile at how cute Revy looked, in spite of herself of course.

"Don'…don' jessh shtand there yah putz." She held out her hands. "Help me damn it." He hauled her to her feet, only to have her tumble down again.

"Do yah wan' me tah carry you?"

"Fuck no. Yes. No. Maybe. Eh, yah may's well. This's yer fault." He knelt so she could clamber on his back. With the redhead secured, Rock started back to the plane. It wasn't going to be easy though. Not that Revy was heavy, his feet were. He stumbled along, knocking his feet on what felt like every bump, stone and hole in the road.

"Oh…oh my God Rocky." Revy whispered in his ear.

"What?"

"I'm soooo high…up right now. On yer back, I'm at tha same height as Country." She twisted her head around, taking in the new vantage point. "Ah always wanted tah be taller. It's sooo high though…how does he get around without bashin' his head intah everythin'?" She leaned her head against his shoulder, burying her face in his hair. "Damn yer comfy Rocky-baby."

. . .

Dutch and Benny arrived back at the plane to find Rock and Revy passed out in the plane's tail at the waist gunner positions. Rock was sprawled on his back and Revy was curled up on her side, an arm thrown across Rock as they snored.

"What the hell happened here?" Dutch asked Country who was rolling up the mattress he'd been napping on.

"Shhhh…" Country put a finger to his lips. "Thing 1 and Thing 2 are sleeping!" He grinned as he ducked under the bomb bay doors and crawled onto the catwalk. Dutch and Benny followed, still confused as could be about the two snoozing in the back.

"S'far's Ah can tell, they burned through tha pack ah 'Good Times Cee-gar-ettes' an' resolved some tension 'tween tha two of 'em."

"Good Times Cigarettes? Never heard of those."

"Ah'd 'magine not. Bout week ah-go, Ah gave Jackpot Rowan, some-ah his girls an' ah bunch of guests ah ride over tha city. Did some maneuvers, did some stalls an' sech. So we lands an' they're coughin' up dough tah cover it an' they're ah couplah bucks short. Rowan covered tha diff'rence with a case ah these cee-gar-ettes."

"So what do they do?" Benny asked as he examined the pack Country had tossed him. "Knowing Rowan, they don't just treat 'glaucoma', know what I mean?"

"Tha Three 'H's' Benny mah man. Happy, Hungry 'n' Horny. It has ah mild aphrodisiac, some anti-anxiety stuff an' ah few odds 'n' ends. Got's some side 'ffects too Ah might add. Slurred speech is tha main one an' you'll sound like ah mash between me an' ah surfer dude. That'n tinglin' er numbness in yer face, losin' yer mental filter…yah also wake up with ah headache that'd split tha Hoover Dam an tah top it off, yer hungry as hell fer some reason. Ain't quite figgered that one out yet."

"Looks like they had themselves a little party." Dutch grinned as he looked back to the tail. "They sure seem comfy, don't they?"

"Yep. Ah gave Rock ah pack 'n' told 'im tah go nuts. Ah jest didn' figger on tha two of 'em burnin' up tha whole pack." Country looked up through the canopy windshield at the cloud of dust that was coming down the runway. "This looks like our boys."

A car pulled up, a black luxury sedan covered with dust. Four men in suits stepped out and seemed slightly dissapointed. They looked skeptically at the plane as if they were expecting a private jet with air conditioning, a bar and a group pretty, smiling, stewardesses. Instead they saw an old B24J Liberator, a blonde pony-tailed man in a red Hawaiian shirt, a bald, muscular black man in a flak jacket, a grinning curly haired redneck with a baseball cap leaning out the pilot's window and they could have sworn they heard snoring coming from the plane.

"Are you Lagoon Company?"

"Depends on who's asking." Dutch challenged.

"Chang Wai-San sends his regards."

"Those are the magic words. Let's get you on board."

The four men were shown to four small fold-out jump-seats forward of the bomb bay. Country stood at the base of the ladder to the flight deck in front of them. He was going to give his pre-flight brief he gave to all passengers. He said it was for their safety and convenience but mostly it was for his own amusement.

"Alllll righty gennellmen. Ah'm Country, yer pilot today. This's ah B-24J Liberator, ah most stable, resil-ee-ent an' depend-ah-ble aircraft. While yer on it, what Ah say goes. No if's, and's er but's 'bout it. If Ah tell yah tah do somethin' an' this goes 'specially fer emergencies, yah damn well better do it. We ain' got no parachutes so don' ask. Also, Ah ain' gonna bother with 'mergency exits. If yah gotta smoke, do it in tha bomb bay. If yah gotta take ah leak, too bad, tha head's broken 'cause some ignoramus who shall remain nameless..._Benny_…decided tah have sketchy frozen Mexican fer lunch before ah flight. An' finally. DO. NOT. TOUCH. ANYTHIN'. Not ah button, switch, lever, knob, buzzer, trigger, bell, whistle…NOTHIN'. Yah fuck with it an' break it, y'all've bought it. Got it?" Four heads nodded in unison. "Good. Oh, an' don' wake them two up in tha tail. 'Specially tha red-headed one…trust me. Any questions? No? Awesome! Let's git vertical!"

. . .

The four men looked uneasy as I started Engine Number Three an' the plane rumbled tah life. They must-ah been used to them fancy "High-Speed an' Low-Drag" private jets. Bah an' humbug. Gimme four roarin' radials anyday. They relaxed some as I got to altitude an' set us fer cruise. One of 'em even came up an' asked tah borrow some readin' material. He said he was takin' classes in his spare time. He was tryin' tah become ah literature teacher! Amazin' the people yah meet.

Beep! Beep!...Beep! Beep!...Beep! Beep! A blip appeared on the edge of Benny's radar screen, ten miles out 'n' closing. It wasn't comin' at us at any high speed, but slowly gained none the less.

"Country." Benny called me over the intercom an' his voice crackled in mah ear. "We seem to have an admirer."

"How far back?" I wasn' worried, probably some puddle jumper out fer ah joyride.

"Now he's seven, no, six miles. He's coming up directly on our six o'clock."

"Ah, yer worryin' too much." I dismissed as I flipped the page in mah copy of "The Importance of Being Ernest". How someone can be so calm an' eat muffins at sech ah time is beyond me.

"Uh…new contact. This one's a lot faster." Now what?

"It split off from the first one, gaining real fast…shit! It's a missile, he's firing at us!"

"Now, why'd he up an' go sech ah stupid thang like that?" I opened mah window an' leaned out, looking back to catch a glimpse of the missile. "Ah, there she is! Lookee there, look at 'er go!" I could see ah bright speck off the left rudder. I turned back to mah right to address the four petrified lookin' passengers. "Gennellmen, buckle up please. Things are 'bout tah git real interestin'."

As the missile closed, I stomped on the right rudder pedal, turned the stick hard right an' pulled back. I also chopped our speed, yah turn ah lot sharper when yer slower. The missile, goin' much faster, couldn' match the turn, ah hard right that almost put us sideways. It streaked harmlessly past, the vapor trail in ah slow curve as it shot in front of us. Then, it ran outta gas. Out of fuel, it dropped altitude an' plummeted to the ocean below. All was quiet back aft, those two were still asleep. Good Times Cigarettes'll do that to yah.

"Hey, can't we go, you know…faster?" Benny asked as he watched the blip on the radar grow closer.

"'Course we can!" I didn' see why Benny was puttin' up such ah fuss.

"We're just used to being able to outrun trouble is all." Dutch explained. "A PT boat is pretty good at that."

"Ah understand y'all completely but there's jest one problem. If Ah punch us up to Military Power, Ah can hit 295 max. Thing of it is, we'd burn up too much gas an' run outta fuel over tha ocean. We can' jest float 'round an' wait fer someone tah show up with some jerry cans, we'd crash an' hard. This plane's notorious fer breakin' apart in water landin's af'er all. We're gonna hafta git rid of him."

"Well here he comes!" A white and black medium sized, low mono-wing plane roared by an' nearly clipped our port wing.

"Well Ah'll be ah monkey's uncle! Ah reck-nize that damn bird anywhere! It's an AT-802U. Never thought Ah'd see one this close an' pers'nal."

"What is it?" Dutch swiveled the top turret around to git a better look.

"It's ah crop duster they terned into ah fighter. They slapped on twin 20 millimeter cannon, bombs, rockets, missiles, FLIR an' it can hold over ah target practic'lly forever. It's mostly fer ground attack but as yah saw, can be fitted with air tah air missiles. They use 'em ah bunch fer huntin' cartels in Columbia." The plane looped back 'round, surveying his target, his only missile expended. I caught ah glimpse of the logo painted on the fuselage. It was ah skull with ah knife thrust up through the mouth to the hilt an' was wreathed in flame…

"Recognize that marker Dutch?"

"Yeah I do. Fucker's from Lin. Hey!" He dropped down an' addressed our passengers. "Know a Mr. Lin? Gangster wanna-be type? Wears a lot of gold chains?"

"Is that his plane out there? Yeah, I remember him. That asshole is our biggest pain. He was one of our competitors for the Triangle; he must've sent that plan to take us out!"

"Well that's just great, I knew it!" Dutch swore as he clambered back into the turret. He trained his guns on the plane which was dancing jest out of range. "Benny, go wake up Rock 'n' Revy! We need them at turrets!"

Benny squeezed past our passengers, shimmied 'cross the bomb bay catwalk an' skirted the ball turret. He found the pair still passed out on the deck. He vainly tried tah shake them awake, even lifting Rock up by his collar an' lettin' him fall back to the deck with ah clunk. As his last option; Benny up-ended ah water bottle on them. Sputtering an' blearily blinkin' his eyes, Rock came to. Revy accidentally swallered ah mouthful of water an' nearly puked. She groaned as she sat up, holdin' her head like it was gonna fly apart.

"Oh…fuck me sideways 'till Sunday…" She staggered to her feet, leaning on the fuselage fer support. "Where's that inbred cornholer an' what the fuck did he put in those cigarettes...and why am I so damn hungry?!" She ground out, her head still very woozy.

"We're going to have to worry about that later!" Benny said as the AT made its first pass. 20mm rounds exploded 'gainst the plane an' shook the whole craft, knockin' Revy to the deck. Some blasted holes through tah metal an' showered us with red hot sparks and shards.

"Quit puttin' holes in mah plane yah Got-Damned cross-eyed weasel!" I yelled. As if he could hear me, ah round blasted through the bulkhead behind mah head, zipped past mah noggin' an' exited as quickly as it came through the front windah. Dutch's twin fiftys thundered as he tried tah put rounds on target. He succeeded in puttin' some new holes in the right wing of the AT. It trailed a few tendrils of smoke as he rolled outta the line of fire. An alarm started to beep softly on mah instrument panel, Bip-Bip!...Bip-Bip!...Bip-Bip! One of tha passengers wasn't amused by it.

"Hey! What's that alarm for?"

"Jest means Ah'm losin' oil pressure in Number Two is all."

"That's all?! What do you mean that's all?"

"Sir, Ah'm goin' out on ah limb here…" I ventured as I fiddled with the controls to try an' make sure Number Two didn' die on me, reducing it to idle. "But you don' like airplanes…do yah?"

"What was your first clue?!" I had tah laugh at that. If he thought this was bad, tha poor man was really in fer ah treat with what I was gonna do next.

"Alright chickadees, lissen up." Everyone was plugged into the intercome, waitin' fer orders. "Benny, stay in tha tail turret. Rock, yer in yer usual in tha nose. Revy…"

"Yeah?"

"Git in tha ball."

The Ball Turret on ah B-24J is the smallest compartment on the plane. Imagine, ah human hamster ball of plexiglass. Now, slap on some armor, put ah M2 Browning Fifty Cal machine gun on each side, the controls in the middle. Next, put it into ah hole in the floor of the middle of the plane, behind the bomb bay an' lower it so it sticks out of the bottom of the plane like an afterthought. On top of that, cram ah human inside in sech ah way they're layin' on their back, feet forward, knees by their ears an' ah fifty cal on either side of their head. There's ah ball turret fer yah. It traverses in ah 360 arc left an' right an' can also point straight down an' covers the entire area under the plane. It's also the position that suffered the highest casualties 'mongst B-24 crews. Like I said, yer in ah hamster ball, layin' on yer back an' all yah got is ah quarter inch ah armor plate at best. But it's also the weakest area in the terms of cov'rage so the best shot has tah take that spot.

Benny an' Rock helped Revy get settled into the ball. She twisted an' grumbled as she got comfy, like ah dog in too small ah kennel. She plugged in her intercom headset an' readied up the guns. She flashed ah grin an' thumbs up to Rock an' he closed the turret hatch. He then dropped the release lever an' the hydraulics hummed an' then clunked as the turret was lowered into place.

"All righty-tighty." I said; makin' sure mah harness was strapped down good 'n' tight. "Here's what's gonna go down. When he goes on ah run again, Ah'm gonna skid us. We're gonna slow down ah lot an' stall too…an' drop ah few thousan' feet. He's gonna go right over us an' we'll shoot 'im in tha ass as he goes by. Alright, strap in an' hold on…this's gonna be fun!"

"Here he comes!" Benny started firing from the tail an' Dutch from the top. I waited 'till he was 100 yards dead astern an' put us into a hard skid. A skid is when yer airplane is still goin' forward, but pointed sideways ah bit, rollin' one way an' pitchin' upwards ah bit. It's about as close tah the brakes on ah plane as yah get. Doin' it's easy. Yah romp real hard on one rudder pedal; roll back the opposite way an' pull back ah tad. Do that'n drop yer engine speed, drop some flaps an you'll come tah ah halt faster than ah mosquito hittin' the windshield. Oh, that an' the good-fer-nuthin' nusance puttin' holes in yer plane'll zip by at ah blisterin' 250 mph while yah stall out at ah leisurely 95.

As we stalled, I looked at the climb rate an' altimeter. We'd dropped 250…500…1,000…2,000…Meanwhile, Rock an' Dutch were givin' the AT hell as he slowed down to try an' not overshoot us. They laid down ah barrage that'd impress Audie Murphy. Caught between four guns, the AT's only option was tah dive an' git below us. Left an' right would keep him in Dutch's sights; same's up an' forward but added from Rock. So he snapped his smokin' plane inverted an' dropped. We was still fallin' too, but yah can always dive faster than ah big 'ole B-24 can stall. What he didn' count on was Revy waitin' fer him in the Ball.

. . .

Revy had the turret facing forward, the guns level. They were set just as high as they could go. Her stomach had punched its way into her throat as the plane stalled and she'd banged her head on the turret roof despite her harness straps. Now she'd adjusted and drummed her fingers impatiently on the two control levers and lightly tapped her feet on the traverse pedals.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…" She whispered, her fingers softly resting on the triggers. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…just you 'n' me…" Her face broke into a smile of sadistic joy when the tip of the AT's prop appeared under the B-24.

"Take this, you limp-dick sunnuva bitch!" She yelled as she mashed down on the triggers. The twin M2's chugged as they lay down a stream of jacketed lead. The recoil of the guns in such proximity was making the turret vibrate; she could feel the tremors all up and down her back…oh fuck what a thrill!

The arc of tracers started off below the prop but worked their way back. She decimated the entire length of the plane. The engine took several hits and started billowing smoke. There was a brilliant flash out of the exhaust pipes as it flamed out and died, and then there was a burst of fire that swept along the length of the fuselage.

But Revy wasn't done, still riddling the AT with holes. The M2's hammered and beat down the plexiglass canopy. The material splintered into a thousand spider webs and then it began to fly apart as bullets came raining through. The instrument panel exploded in a flurry of plastic shards, wires, arcs of electricity and glass. A round bored through the pilot's right quadricep. The muscle wriggled and then popped apart like an over-stuffed sausage. The skin ripped asunder and peeled away as hydrostatic shock turned his quad to jelly. A round from the other gun cleaved through his left shoulder socket, ripping his arm from his body. It dangled uselessly in the sleeve of his flight jacket, the sleeve quickly filled with blood. And finally, in a coup de grace, a tracer round equipped with a magnesium tip, screaming along at 1,500 feet per second at 1,000 degrees Fahrenheit; found the left wing auxiliary fuel tank. Even from 1,000 feet above, Revy still saw enough of the explosion to mutter an awed "Damn." With the pilot was passed out from blood loss that had splattered all over the cockpit, the control wires shot to hell, the left wing gone and the stump of it on fire, the plane spiraled in a nose-down dive straight into the ocean.

"Did'ja git him?" Country asked as he brought the plane level again.

"Fuck yeah I did. Splash one crop duster."

. . .

We touched down in Roanapur ah few hours later, safe 'n' sound. Mr. Chang's car was waitin' by the runway fer his guests. They stumbled outta the plane, still shakin' from the manueverin's I'd done. One even knelt tah touch the ground with his hands. It was like he was reassuring himself that he really was on the Earth again.

"Did you have much trouble?" The driver asked; eyeing the holes in the plane an' the green faces of the four passengers.

"Eh. Nuthin' we couldn' take care of. Now, Ah'm sorry if Ah seem rude er anythin'…but there's an awful lotta holes I gotta patch…"

"Of course. Business is business." He reached into ah satchel of bound bills, ah name written on each label. "$1,500 each for Miss Rebecca, Mr. Okajima, and Mr. Benjamin for a total of $3,000 each. $2,500 for Mr. Dutch for a total of $5,000. Finally, $7,000 for Mr. Country and a total of $14,000. All are satisfied?"

"Hang on a second! I'm not!" Revy glared at me an' mah hands full of bills. "How's it that he's getting fourteen?!"

"See them holes?" I pointed back at the plane. It was peppered with softball sized dings, dents an' holes. "They gotta git patched. Ah also need ah new plexiglass windshield. Tack on tha…oh, twenty five 'undred bullets y'all fired AN' Ah ain' even put gas in tha tank yet…that'll all be at least ten grand."

"You're still gettin' a thousand more than me!"

"Do you know how tah fly ah plane?"

"No…"

"Well ah do, an' to Mr. Chang, that little difference is worth an extra grand. So 'till yah can fly that plane Ah'd work on seein' if yah can flap yer arms 'nuff tah git off tha ground." I teased as Revy boiled over.

Defeated, Revy stomped off the runway, fuming. Rock followed her, probably askin' her tah calm down. I tipped mah hat to ev'ryone an' headed fer the house. A note was tacked to the screen door in ah soft, flowin' hand. It read:

Gone for ice cream with H & G. Back at 7. – Sawyer

"Well that was awful nice of Mizz Sawyer. Maybe I'll take HER out fer ice cream…she is kinda cute, in her own way..." I thought as I waved goodbye to the rest of Lagoon. They piled into the GTO, threw gravel an' thundered off tah town. Mr. Chang's car smoothly accelerated, rolled down the runway an' outta sight. It'd been ah long day of flyin' an' I had ah lotta workin' to do on the plane. First thing's first though. Can' work on ah sleepy body or brain! Time fer ah nap on the couch. I'd jest gotten comfy an' was dozin' off when the phone rang. Now, who'd in the blazes hell would interrupt mah afternoon siesta?

I got up, grumblin' as I walked through the livin' room, nearly broke mah neck on ah pair of Hansel's boots, made ah left to the kitchen, then made mah way 'round the kitchen table, covered with Gretel's seemingly endless pile of song lyrics she'd been thinkin' up, an' finally made it to the old rotary phone on the wall.

"Roanapur Airfield an' Sharkmouth Airforce, ah division of Tha Lagoon Comp'ny, this is Lieutenant Country speakin', how might ah direct yer call?"

"Lieutenant? Really?" Mr. Chang asked, laughing at my little self-humor.

"Hey, Ah'm founder of Sharkmouth Airforce, Ah can promote myself if Ah want…Dutch said he thought it was funny. That an' somethin' 'bout all of us bein' so damn simple-minded."

"Alright, fair enough. Other than that, really professional sounding. You might do well in this business after all. Did everyone else head back to town?"

"Yeah, 'bout ah minute er so ago…why?"

"Something's up. I'll call back in a minute." Click. Huh, that was strange. As soon as I replaced the phone, it started ringin' again.

"Roanapur Airfield 'n'…"

"Spare me Country." Miss Balalaika interrupted me. Now what does she want? "Did everyone head back to town yet?"

"Yeahhhh…" I was startin' tah git ah funny feelin'…yah could say mah Spidey Senses was tinglin'. "Why? Mr. Chang jest called ah moment ago."

"Something isn't right. Everyone is on edge, like animals before an earthquake."

"Right…Ah noticed. Hey…Ah wuzz wond'rin'…maybe we could try again, tha Twins an' you. Maybe y'all come down fer dinner with us 'n' tha rest of Lagoon sometime…talk things over an' check on their progress? They've gotten ah lot better in the past few weeks." All was quiet on the Russian front fer ah moment.

"While I am not happy with your choices or actions, you have been a good pilot and Dutch speaks of you in the same respect as Benny, Rock and Revy." She paused, prob'ly tah keep herself from blowin' out mah eardrum. "Because of that, I am willing to look the other way, but don't make this a hobby and don't forget what happens if they mess up."

"Ah ain't forgotten." Well tha's good, so far. "An' can Ah set out ah place fer yah…an' Boris too Ah 'spose."

"I will run it by him and…I'll think about it. Don't get your hopes up. I'll be in touch…Oh, and please stop buzzing my office."

"Ah'll think 'bout it. Nice hearin' from yah…" Click. Huh. Hung up on me. Well that went better than expected. The phone rang again, must be Mr. Chang. "Go fer Country."

"You need to find the rest of Lagoon fast!" He damn near hollered in mah ear. "They're not safe and Rock hasn't picked up his phone."

"Well wha' else can Lin do? We've done in ah bunch of em…he sendin' out tha third string, tha cheerleaders an' tha water boys too?"

"Worse…we have no idea what he's done. What we do know is that his guys have been spotted all over town. They are way out of their territory and he seems to have gotten reinforcements from somewhere, probably from the Triangle."

"Ah still don' see what yer drivin' at…Ah know he's got ah hate boner tha size of Texas fer us but…"

"Country, Balalaika said you were in the militia. How would you carry out a strike against yourself and Lagoon if you were in Lin's position?"

"How would Ah…oh that yeller rat bastard." A gut-punch knot grew in me as I realized what'd been done and worse, how little time I had. "Mister Chang. Send someone over to our main office in town, git Dutch an' Benny as far away as possible, uh, send 'em to tha Church on tha hill. If yah ain't got no one 'round, call Miss Balalaika an' have her do it. Ah'm goin' fer Rock 'n' Revy, they're closest tah me."

"Okay, will do. Hey, what do you think…" I slammed the phone down 'fore Mr. Chang could finish. I jammed mah feet into mah boots, buckled on mah gun belt, checked the Patrolman's cylinder, yep, six shells, tucked the revolver into its holster, ball cap is on, truck keys in hand. That old Ford roared to life an' I took off t'wards town like ah bat outta Hell.

On ah side note, ever notice when yer in ah hurry tah git somewhere, 'specially somewheres important…everyone an' their brother is like Drivin' Miss Daisy? It seemed tah me that everyone who owned ah car 'cided tah take an afternoon cruise. I blew through three stop signs, five yeller lights, four red ones, smashed the crossguards at the train tracks an hit at least one mailbox…maybe two but I won' count the last one, damn thing was painted the same colors as Ohio State. If anythin', I did them ah favor. One of Chief Watsup's boys flipped on his lights as I streaked past his alleyway hidin' spot. I flashed mah gun out the windah, wavin' it back an' forth tah make sure he saw it. He must've because he slammed on his brakes an' decided that the blue '59 Ford was above his pay grade.

Rock was jest ah block from his place. He was amblin' along like he didn't have ah care in the world an' all the time to find one. He looked happier than hell, prob'bly day-dreamin' 'bout Revy. I almost ran him over as I pulled up. I had mah front right tire up on the curb as I laid on the horn.

"Git in tha truck!" He stopped but didn' move towards me.

"What's going on?" He was prob'bly still buzzed from the cigarettes.

"No time, git in!" He started t'wards the truck but too slow fer mah likin'.

"Alright, no need to yell…"

"If you don' hurry yer ass up, Revy dies!" I didn' think the man could move that fast.

I came to ah screechin' halt outside Revy's place. I'd racked up three more stop signs, four more red lights, some numb-nuts on ah scooter an' one very terrified Jap'nese businessman. If he thought that little scoot 'cross town was fun, he outta git into dirt track racin'.

"Alrighty Rock, yah got thirty seconds." I tapped mah watch an' showed him were I was gonna start countin'. "An' Ah ain' hangin' 'round ah second longer."

. . .

Rock took the stairs four at a time. He hammered on Revy's door but there was no reply. He could hear a stereo thumping heavy bass and the sound of running water. There was no way she'd hear him unless he had a gun or a brass band. He put his shoulder to the door, nothing. He slammed into it again, nothing. He'd wasted ten seconds. He kicked as hard as he could and the door flew open, banging off the wall. Revy stuck her head out of the bathroom, ready to kick the ass of whoever was making that damn racket. He was down to fifteen seconds.

"For fucks sake Rock, can a girl take a leak in private…HEY!" He crossed the room in two strides and picked her up. He had most of her slung over his shoulder and headed for the door.

"What the fuck are you doing? Put me down!"

"No time! Gotta go!"

"My guns!" He was almost to the door but snagged the holster from the coffee table as he went. Five seconds. Country was waiting, the engine running and his foot on the gas. Rock threw Revy into the cab and was still hanging halfway out of the truck when Country dropped the truck into second gear and took off like a rocket sled on rails. Revy pulled Rock by his belt into the truck and got the door closed before turning to Country.

"You mind telling me what the hell that was all about?"

"Its per-nounced 'Thank yah so much Country' an' somethin' about how you two is enternally grateful an' all that jazz."

"Eternally grateful? For what?!"

A block behind them, Revy's apartment exploded. The entire complex went up in flames, chunks of brick were thrown two blocks away and even a TV bounced past the truck, shattering on the sidewalk. The only remnants of the building was the smoldering crater, glass, brick shards and the odd bright pink and charred pillow in the middle of the road.

"Oh…fuck…" Revy said faintly, looking back at the pillar of smoke. "My place…all my shit…I mean, most of it WAS shit, but it was MY shit God damn it! How did you know about this?"

"Mister Chang 'n' Miss Balalaika called. They mentioned somthin' 'bout ah lotta activityfrom Lin's boys an' 'specially outta his territ'ry. They didn' know quite what he was doin' but it sure wadn' sellin' Girl Scout Cookies. An' then Chang said "What would you do?' Yah know; if Ah was in Lin's position."

"So you'd blow up my apartment? That's it?"

"Unfort'nately no." There was a muffled _Boooommmm…_ followed by two more back-to-back explosions. "Ah'd also hit Rock's, Benny's, Dutch's AN'…" There was another much louder explosion from two blocks over. "Tha office. They'd been followin' us 'round an' prob'ly figgered out where we all lived. While we was up in tha Triangle they must've snuck on down an' planted bombs in case tha plane they sent failed." Country skidded around the corner, throwing Rock and Revy into their door as he made the turn. Revy shoved Rock back into his seat and then was thrown on top of him as Country made another turn, putting the truck up on two wheels.

"He sure changed tactics didn't he?" Rock said, smashed between Country and Revy. "Assaulting us head-on wasn't quite panning out. I mean, what did he really expect?"

"Yep. It's what Ah'd have done; wait fer us tah leave an' try tah do somethin' sneakier. Twice at tha field failed, tha suitcase bomb an' tha plane failed."

"It's still fuckin' low, if yah can't hack it like a real gunfighter then bow out." Revy said, extremely pissed off about her apartment going up in smoke.

"All's fair in love 'n' war an' tha's jest what this is, ah damn war." Country said, the warning chord in his neck twitching and his face turning red. "Ah was ready tah fight tha Russkies, tha Chinamen, an' even mah own Gover'ment. Ah never thought mah war'd be against ah buncha two-bit thugs. Waste of mah time, waste of trainin'." He turned off the main road to the dirt two-track leading to the airfield. "But if it's ah war real war they wan', it's ah real war they's gonna git, air power an' all." The truck slid to a stop in front of Country's house. He jumped out, leaving the engine running.

"What're you going to do?" Rock yelled as Country headed for the house.

"Give 'em ah little bit ah Shock 'n' Awe, maybe end this 'fore it gets too much outta hand." Country came back out with some interesting flight gear: a radio headset and voice collar like Sawyer's, a flak jacket like Dutch's and a set of leather flying gloves.

"What is all that?" Rock pointed at the flak jacket Country was wearing.

"Combat gear ah course!"

"What's with the flap on the back, a fuckin' diaper or something?" Revy asked, looking at the extra two feet of material hanging behind Country's legs and butt.

"It's ah few extra steel plates."

"Why are they behind your legs and ass?"

"Well Ah sit on em so if they shoot back Ah don' git shot in tha balls." He explained as if he was telling them the sky was blue. "Anyhow, Rock. Call up Chang an' Balalaika an' tell 'em yer alright. Ah already got ahold of Mizz Sawyer an' she's got the Twins at her place with Mizz Shenhuah an' Mister Lotton. Head fer tha Church, it outta be safe there. Oh, an' feel free tah borrow tha truck." Country opened the main hangar door and clambered into the Corsair. The prop turned once, twice and stopped. He tried to start again but the engine just chugged twice and stopped again. Country swore and leaned out of the cockpit.

"Rock! Lend ah fellow ah hand?!" Rock ran to the plane and Revy went into the house to make the phone calls.

"What do you need?"

"Turn tha prop ah few times so tha top cylinders can git some oil in 'em. Watch an' make sure yah git clear if it kicks on yah." Rock took a prop blade and pulled down and it only spun once, nothing. He pulled again and it spun twice with a series of chugs from the engine and a puff of smoke from the exhaust.

"One more outta do 'er!" Rock heaved on the prop again and sprang back as the Corsair roared to life. 2,100 horsepower shot a torrent of white smoke out of the exhaust as the engine warmed up.

"Alright Rock, git goin'!" Country yelled over the engine. The plane was vibrating from the engine's power, seeming like it was trying to leap into the air all by itself, as angry as its pilot.

"Are you at Level 5?" Rock yelled back.

"Four…Ah think. Only been tah Four 'n' Five once. Now git movin'!" Country released the brakes and the Corsair began to roll forward. As Rock ran back to the truck, Country swung the tail of the Corsair around and slammed the throttle as far forward as it would go. He took off and passed over the truck so closely that Rock felt the prop wash as it passed overhead, all eighteen cylinders screaming at full military power.

They made it to the Rip-Off Church a few minutes later without trouble. The rest of Lagoon had already made it there too. They were sitting on the front steps, all trying to explain to Eda and Yolanda what had happened all at the same time.

"Yo, Revy!" Eda called as the truck pulled up. "Heard your place has a little bit of an explosion problem. Maybe you and Rock can get a place together?"

"I'm really not in the fuckin' mood." Revy slammed her door shut and stomped over to the steps.

"So where is Country?" Benny asked, trying to untangle himself from a very shell-shocked Jane as she held his arm in a death grip. They were only a hundred yards from his place when the bomb inside went off and Jane hadn't quite recovered yet. "Did he stay at the airfield?"

"Actually," Rock spotted and pointed out a speck to the north. "I think that's him now." Everyone ducked as the dark blue plane streaked over the Church's front lawn just below the steeple. Where "Navy" had originally been painted on the fuselage was now _"Sharkmouth Airforce"; _a grinning shark mouth with sharp, white teeth and an angry black and white shark eye above it had been painted on each side of the engine. Hanging from the wings were eight five-inch rockets and slung on the center fuselage rack between the wings was a 500-pound bomb.

"What're those on the wings?" Rock asked.

"Five-inch 'Holy Moses' rockets." Eda smiled as she watched the Corsair head off to the south.

"Holy Moses?"

"That's what you'll be saying when you see them go off." She said, popping her gum. "That and he bought them from us, seems fitting doesn't it?"

"I thought he didn't know how to fly that plane right, he missed with his last bomb." Benny said, holding out his hand for Dutch's binoculars.

"He's been practicing for the past few weeks with it, been shooting up the old shipwrecks along the coast." Eda said. "He's also bought almost all of our entire stock of linked fifty cal; we can barely keep it in stock now. I saw him out flying the other day…it's really cool to watch."

"Where's he heading anyway?" Revy asked as she too watched the Corsair.

"Looks like…no…he wouldn't…" Dutch scanned the ridge of mountains that ran around the city, like a pair of arms that were encircling Roanapur. Country was headed for the southern ridge. Many of the city's well-off and richer citizens had built their lavish estates with their organizations money. Chief among them was the plantation sized playground of…you guessed it…Mr. Lin.

"Yep. He's headed straight for Lin's place." Dutch said as he looked through a set of binoculars. "This'll be a good show."

. . .

It had been a good day for Roanapur's Rascals. (Note from Country: Yep. That's their name readers. Stuff like this is jest too stupid tah make up!) Their strike on Lagoon had been carried out to the letter and successfully or so they thought. All that was left to do was read about the deaths of Lagoon in the obituaries tomorrow. Mr. Lin himself, after hearing the bombs had all been planted, took a private flight to spend the weekend in Hong Kong with a mistress. He'd left his house open for his men to party and the place was packed. The music was blasting, the liquor flowing, the smoke from cigarettes and other drugs building for an hour when a dark blue F4U-4 Corsair did its first fly-over. At 1,000 feet up, many didn't even notice the plane as it circled the estate, like a hawk searching for a mouse to pounce on.

"Lagoon, come in Lagoon." The CB radio in Country's truck crackled back at the Church. Revy leaned in through the window and picked up the mike.

"We hear yah Bumpkin. What's up?"

"Tha's an' awful nice house Mister Lin's got down there." Country said as Lagoon watched him circle the property. "It'd be an awful shame if somethin' was tah…happen to it…" The rest of Lagoon and the members of the Church smiled with sadistic glee at those words. Country flew off to the south of the estate and lined up with the property.

"It'd be an awful shame indeed Country." Revy said. "Give 'em hell."

. . .

"Hey…hey man…" One of Lin's lieutenants elbowed his buddy and pointed to the sky. "Ain't that plane looking a little…HIC!...low to you?"

"Yeah it is man…" His buddy took a hit. "Hey, maybe it's gonna drop confetti hahaa!" The two men laughed at their own drunkenness, half watching the plane and half listening to the stereo playing loudly on the back porch. It was set to an American rock station that was pumping out the heavy rhythms of ACDC. As the plane circled around and lined up, Angus Young began to play his guitar:

_Thunder!...Thunder!...Thunder!...I was caught…In the middle of a railroad track…Thunder!...I looked 'round…And I knew there was no turning back…Thunder!...My mind raced…And I thought 'What could I do?!'…Thunder!...And I knew…There was no help, no help from you!...Thunder!_

Half a mile out from the house, a Holy Moses rocket dropped from its mounting bracket and its engine fired. It streaked across the lawn and hit the left wing of the house. Three more followed, hitting the house and one of the outbuildings. The explosions were so close they sounded like one. Rascals were too drunk, high and confused to comprehend what was going on and many simply stood in shock as the music continued to play:

_Sound of the drums…Beatin' in my heart!...The thunder of guns…Tore me apart…You've been…__**Thunderstruck**__!_

The Corsair pulled up out of its run, rolled out to the left and came by for another pass. Four more rockets slammed into the front of the house. The whole structure shook with the explosions, most of the windows were blown out and the glass showered everyone hiding inside. Six M2-AN Browning machine guns opened fire, each sending 800 rounds a minute towards the scurrying horde of men below. Rascals were chewed up and spit out by the strafing M2's. Bodies were shredded by the bullets, limbs ripped and sent flying from their torsos and the pool was quickly turning red from the swimmers floating inside it.

Again Country pulled out of his run, just fifty feet off the ground and shot straight up. At the top of his climb, he rolled inverted and then snapped back around to bear down on the lawn. This run caught the men trying to distance themselves from the house by fleeing down the mile-long back lawn; (Lin had his very own private golf course.) Catching them in the open, the six guns were merciless. Clumps of bodies were sprawled all along the lawn up to the house as they were too confused and terrified to mount any resistance. The second gun run mowed down gangster after gangster, bullets buzzed through bodies that exploded in a red, pulpy cloud a split-second later to the tune of thundering guns, electric guitar and the roar of the Corsair's engine.

Their hunger still not sated, the guns opened up on the house. Those who had made it through the rockets and the first two runs had taken shelter inside. They quickly found the walls perforated with holes and the halls filled with the screaming of wounded. Remaining windows exploded in a flurry of razor shards, splinters of plaster and masonry sliced through the house. One of the Lieutenants slowly crawled over to a phone, a bullet had blown off his legs at the knees and his blood trailed behind him on the plush white carpet. He dialed up Mr. Lin's private number and heard the other end pick up.

"This better be good."

"Boss! It's Chai-son, at your place! There's some plane bombing and shooting the shit out of the place! Fuck, there are bodies everywhere! I think it's that Country guy from Lagoon!" Then almost as if Country could hear him, a bullet smashed into the phone, killing the call.

The Corsair looped around to make one final pass. Country punched the bomb release and the plane jumped as it dropped 500 pounds of explosives. The bomb sailed through the giant gallery windows above the front door, smashed through the wall across the foyer, through the kitchen, out through the back wall and slammed into back patio deck. It didn't detonate, just stuck out of the hole it had made in the pavers like the world's worst lawn ornament.

"Is it a dud?" One Rascal asked as those few un-wounded came out from behind cover.

"I dunno man. Best not to touch it." They gathered around, surveying the destruction left in the Corsair's wake.

"Wait, is that writing?" Painted on the olive-drab bombshell in white letters was the titular phrase "Well Howdy Neighbor!" and a grinning shark mouth on the bomb's nose.

"Yeah it is…what's that noise?" There was a faint whistling coming from the bomb's tail. One of the Rascals knelt next to the bomb to take a look. Inside the guide fins was a small twirling propeller about the length of your pinky finger. It softly whistled as it slowly spun and then clicked as it came to a stop. "Well…fuck me." The man swore as the bomb exploded.

The Corsair did one last fly-by, surveying the damage. Satisfied, Country turned the plane and flew off over the Church. As he passed over, Country waggled the wings and rolled the plane in a victory salute. At the mansion, the stereo was miraculously un-hit, still playing faithfully the last moments of the song to an audience of dead and dying Rascals:

_You've been Thunderstttrruuuuuuuuuccckkkk!_

_. . ._

* * *

So...how was that? I am not the best at writing "mushy-Hollywood romance-bullshit" as Revy would call it. Describe a bar fight, no problem. Spin a yarn about a shootout, no problem. Two stoned people making out on a park bench? Uhm...next question. I feel like Rock and Revy do have feelings for each other but are so inclined to either over-think everything (Rock) or is so mentally messed up and emotionally confused (Revy) that they needed a bit of a push. Smoking "Good Times Cigarettes" sure can do that I think. Also, with regards to Revy and reading. My impression of her is that she's very intelligent. She's certainly not dumb, stupid people don't survive long in Roanapur. Revy may have turned out differently if she'd finished school or has an opportunity to _constructively_ apply herself. Wow, I sound like my high school physics teacher...time to shut up. Thanks again for reading, throw a review my way to let me know how I'm doing!


	9. Chapter 9

Okay...so. This chapter is one that I had some difficulty writing. Its subject is one I'm not very experienced with and therefore not very good at capturing in text. As a heads-up, it's the most graphic chapter as of yet, so you have been warned!

* * *

. . .

"Country, you are one scary bastard when you're angry, you know that?" Dutch said as Country did his post-flight checks on the Corsair. "We watched from the Church. I thought I'd seen ground attacks in 'Nam but that was some sick shit."

"Thanks, Ah guess." Country was still terse because he was coming down from a Level 4. "Had tah be done. If mah friends got no house then he ain' gonna have one neither. Karma's ah bitch ain' it?" Country grinned, he usual self coming back. As Lagoon lamented their misfortunes, demanded details and a blow-by-blow account of Country's attack, two cars pulled up outside the hangar. The first was a gray Mercedes, followed by a black sedan with a CHANG1 plate.

"Lagoon Company!" Chang beamed as he got out of his car. "I never thought I'd be so glad to see you all. Real shame about your apartments and office…"

"Out of my way!" Balalaika interrupted, shoving Chang out of her path as she practically ran to Country. "How long have you been hiding this plane?!" She asked, her eyes sliding over the Corsair.

"Ah…month er so, well, since it's been put tah-gether anyhow…"

"Why didn't you mention it sooner?! Oh, the things that could be done with a plane like this!"

"W'all, the Corsair's ah good Mudfighter fer sure but Ah'm not sure what yer drivin' at." Balalaika wasn't listening, her eyes wild with excitement, her mind a-whirl with plans of attack and conquest, taking Roanapur with the whoosh of rockets, thundering of machine guns and the roar of a 2,100 horsepower radial engine.

"Dutch, I'm stealing Country." She looked serious about it too. "How would you like to work for me?" She asked; the Twins were obviously forgotten in her excitement.

"Say what? Ma'am Ah think yah outta sit down 'fore yah git intah hysterics."

"I'm being…PERFECTLY reasonable Country." Balalaika said, breathing heavily with excitement and trying to calm down. "I saw your attack on Lin's; I watched from my office, it was incredible. Imagine, more flights you could ever want, all expenses and weapons paid for, your own maintenance team and all you have to do is keep doing flights like the one I saw today. I haven't seen ground attack like that since Afghanistan!"

"Ah, well…I'm purdy content where I'm at…"

"Come now, I won't take no for an answer! Rock, you're a businessman. convince him to change his mind!"

"Uh, I'm going to stay out of this…" Rock said, trying to hide behind Revy and Dutch.

"Capitan. Perhaps you should take a moment?" Boris suggested. Balalaika shook her head and her eyes cleared. She looked visibly embarrassed.

"Yes…yes Sergeant. I apologize, I…I wasn't myself. I was, thinking…something else." Boris ushered her over to their car so she could have a cigar and calm down.

"There somethin' Ah missed?"

"She was a company commander of Spetznaz during the Russian-Afghanistan War." Chang explained. "She and her men had originally trained to fight World War Three, not a bunch of goat herders and she feels like she and her men never got the war they deserved. So every now and then she gets like this when she catches a whiff of conquest."

"Uh-huh. Ah see. 'Splains things ah bit."

"Anyway, what're you going to do now?" Chang seemed to address everyone and waited to see who would speak up first.

"Well, we're can't afford to be split up again." Rock said, mulling over the options. "We will have to find somewhere that we can all defend each other and make sure that we won't be blindsided like this again. We will also have to plan out how to take down Lin before he gets reorganized. If we wait too long, he'll try to pick us off again, one by one."

"That'd be here then." Country said firmly. "We've defended tha field 'fore an' Ah got room fer everyone. Ah also 'gree with yah Rock, 'bout tha one-by-one." Country grinned and added: "It's what Ah'd do, wait fer us tah sep'rate again an' whittle us down."

"Well that settles things doesn't it?" Benny said. "So how are you fixed for rooms in the house?"

"Well…" Country scratched his beard as he thought. "There's only three rooms upstairs, one's fer me, an' one fer tha Twins…Ah say since Dutch's boss tha' means he gits his own quarters, Ah'd say those officers barracks next tah tha house. Rock, Revy, y'all can stay in tha house an' Benny an' Jane…y'all git that barracks over yonder."

"Hey, why do we get the barracks all the way over there?" Jane asked with her hands on her hips.

"'Cause Ah don' wanna haftah listen to yah wailin' like some cat in heat every night, that's why. Revy's told me all 'bout you an' yer nocturnal habits." Country said; laughing as Jane's face flushed beet red. "Now if yah pipe down or yer man buys yah a gag, Ah'll reconsider."

"Ohhhh….kayyyy. That was a little TMI." Chang adjusted his sunglasses so no one could see him trying not to laugh. "I will say that I feel bad for everyone and thing you need a treat. I mean, what're friends for right? So how about a little trip to the Flag? No Revy, I'm just buying the first round." He squashed her dreams before they could get into full-blown fantasies. "And Miss Balalaika, you and I can discuss our next moves while we're at it."

. . .

"This sucks. No one asks me for a blow-by-blow account when I bump off henchmen." Revy said as Country retold his attack for the umpteenth time to another group of wide-eyed locals and gunmen for the cities numerous gangs. "He goes and blows up a house and all of a sudden he's some local hero."

"Well maybe its how he did it, not what he did." Rock theorized. "Besides, I never thought I'd see you jealous of the attention. So unlike you." He teased.

"Pffft. Whatever. As long as he keeps these free drinks rolling in like this, I won't complain…too much." As the rest of Lagoon drank, Country was talking to Bao and learned that the Rascals lived up to their namesake and were considered an annoyance within the city. Imagine a group of assholes in a group of assholes was Bao's analogy. They had fallen even farther out of local favor lately and everyone was pushing crewmembers of Lagoon drinks. Benny and Jane were whispering sweet nothings over their…third?…fourth?…fifth? margarita. Dutch was content with a bottle of Ardbeg and a conversation with Eda. She'd dropped by in her "off-duty" clothes and was trying to convincing Dutch to let her help finish the bottle. Rock and Revy were splitting a fifth of 151 as per their usual. Country was being pushed shots of whiskey, smacking his lips, slamming down the glasses and saying: "Ah! That hit tha spot! Now, where was Ah?" after each one.

"Hello Twinky, hello Dumbass. Very sorry about apartments being blown to bits." Shenhuah sidled up to the bar, always ready to mess with Revy. "You want to try real drink and not cheap rum?"

"Well Chinglish, depends on what you have in mind."

"Bao! Three Baijiu!" Bao filled and slid down three small glasses.

"What the hell kind of chintzy glass is this? It's freakin' tiny." Revy asked as Shenhuah downed hers in one gulp and without hesitation.

"It very good. Very strong, need not drink bottle like 151. You drink bottle of Baijiu and you no wake up."

"Sounds good to me." Revy raised her glass to Rock for a toast. "Cheers Rocky."

"Cheers to you Revy." They downed their drinks and both shivered as it poured down their throats. Rock flushed with color, he could feel the vapors creeping through his mouth and out his nose. Revy's eyes went wide as the alcohol bit her; she blinked a few times, her body trying to figure out how to react.

"Have trouble Twinky?"

"I…huahhhh…whoa." She pounded the bar a few times. "That's some next-level shit."

"Told you so. I go now, Boss Chang has work. Some of us have real job. Bye-bye Twinky and Dumbass. Tell Sawyer and Lotton I see them later."

"Sawyer and Lotton are here too? Where are they?" Rock looked around the bar and found Lotton sitting in the corner with the Twins. All three had untouched glasses of milk on their table. Lotton was showing the Twins his newest pocket video game. They watched the little screen with rapt fascination, never having seen a toy like it before. Sawyer, on the other hand, was down the bar and she was talking with Country. Her usually pale face was turning pink as she nervously stirred her drink.

"Well would you look at that?" Revy noticed Sawyer too and laughed. "Looks like Spooky's got a thing for him. Never thought I'd see that."

"What about you Revy, got a thing for me?" Rock asked, causing Revy to snap back to him so quickly he heard her neck crack. He knew he was treading on thin ice, but Rock didn't really care anymore. Revy had shown him a different side of herself on that park bench. It was part of her that she'd pummeled and beaten into hiding. It was buried under years of getting kicked around by the world; imprisoned by layers of fear, sadness and blind hatred of anyone and everything. He was determined to bring it back to the surface and he had to do it quickly, strike while their kiss in the Triangle was still fresh on her mind. Otherwise, his chance would fade away and Revy would be back to her regular self. However, doing things a subtle way wouldn't work with her, he'd have to be _very_ direct.

"What was that?" Perhaps she'd misheard him.

"You heard me. What about you?"

"You're getting all weird on me Rock." She said, pouring herself another glass.

"C'mon, I'm serious. Was our afternoon in the Triangle just the Good Time Cigs?"

"Don't know what you're going on about." She lied between sips of rum. She actually remembered every second with vivid detail. It was just so out of character for her. Revy had spent most of the flight back pretending to read but was really lost in thought. Kissing Rock…was it really just the drugs and a fit of lust…or did she really lov…No. Not that four letter word. 'It doesn't have a place in my vocabulary. It's just some stupid word people use right before they hurt you or go off and die.' she thought. But she knew that something wasn't right in her mind, something had changed. It was an unfamiliar feeling, sort of a fuzziness and ache in her chest that refused go away and only got worse when Rock was around. She was mortified anyone would find out and think that Two-Hands had gone soft. She couldn't have that, better to play dumb for a while and see what Rock was up to.

"Mmm…sure you don't." Rock said, sliding his stool closer to her. "I'll bet you remember more than you care to admit."

'You've got no idea Rocky.' She thought. "You'd lose that bet." She said.

"Do you really want to play games with me?" That mushy and nice-guy Rock was slipping away. The Darker Rock was coming out to play again, delighted at the chance to stretch its limbs. "I'll be honest with you if you're honest with me." She glanced at the bottle, how much had he had to drink? Maybe it was the Baijiu?

"I remember it all Revy…and I can't stop thinking about it." Her throat was dry, another drink to fix that. Maybe his tolerance had gone down? "And I can't stop thinking about the things I haven't done to you yet."

'Whoa…where did that come from?!' She thought as her breath hitched, her heart skipped and a ball of heat began to build in the pit of her gut. Her body wasn't listening to her commands to simmer the fuck down. It was only heeding the feelings she was failing to keep buried as Rock kept talking. "Yah don't say?" She licked her lips and tried to keep her aloof demeanor.

"Oh, I do say." He was closer now, almost whispering in her ear.

"So what're you gonna do then if your such a big man now?"

"Maybe I'll start by kissing you again and trace your tattoo with my tongue…"

'That would be a great start.' She thought while the heat was spreading to the rest of her body. She felt a tingle start across her skin; her stomach was filled with butterflies drunk on rum, fluttering madly about. "Eh, typical of you. What's next on your list Romeo?"

"I'm going to hold you down, slide off your shorts and top and make you beg for me." He was right next to her now; she could feel his body's presence even as she stared straight ahead into her drink. The heat had worked its way down to her pussy where a dull throbbing had started.

'Oh fuuuuck…' she thought. 'Why is he doing this? He's never been so confident…and why does he have to sound so damn good saying it?!' "I doubt you'd get that much out of me." She managed to work out without her voice wavering.

"Ha! Not only are you going to beg, but by the time I'm done, you're going to be screaming for more." She crossed her legs, her thighs unconsciously pressing together around the throbbing in her pussy. Her heart had sped up; the heat was flowing through the rest of her body and collecting in her chest, fingertips and was flashing across her face.

"Well maybe I'll just make you a couple of new 9mm assholes? How's that?" Under normal circumstances that would have worked but Rock wasn't going to back down, especially from a threat he'd heard a hundred times. Revy bit back a moan as he slipped his hand between her crossed legs and ran it along her inner thigh. He leaned over, so close she could feel his breath on her ear.

"By the time I'm done with you, you're not even going to be able to walk let alone shoot." He whispered softly into her ear as he rubbed his hand inside her thigh, his thumb sliding along the hem of her shorts. They were both up against the far end of the bar and out of the spotlight so no one had noticed them. She was torn between breaking his arm for touching her in front of everyone like this and aching for him to move a few inches up and to the side.

'Well if he thinks he's some macho man, then I'll let him try and prove it.' She thought, uncrossing her legs and standing up. 'If he screws this up, I can make fun of him until the end of time…I can't lose.' She grabbed Rock by his tie and half walked, half dragged him to the door. Country yelled after them to ask why they were leaving so soon. He stopped calling after them though; smiling as he put two and two together and went back to talking with Sawyer.

. . .

The airfield was a brisk walk down the road and Revy dragged Rock the whole way there, not answering any of his questions. They made it to Country's house, the front porch light shone brightly like a beacon in the darkness. Once inside she finally released her grip on his tie. He took a moment to catch his breath, not sure if he was going to have his mind blown or have it blasted out of his skull.

"What was that all about?"

"You're going to make good on all those little things you were saying back at the Flag, got it?" She said, face flushed, breath heavy. Her lips, he noticed, were pink and slightly parted and begging for attention. He took her in his arms, sliding his hands under her top and along her back. They moved to each other, pressing their bodies together as their lips locked. This time she kissed him back, her tongue coiling around his as they plundered the other's mouth. It had been so long she had kissed someone as passionately as this and had someone who was taking their time to enjoy it. He wasn't ripping her clothes off or just buying time to get his pants unzipped, but slowly exploring her and tasting as he went.

Her body was as strung as piano wire; even the lightest touch sent a twitch through reactive, toned muscles. He slid his hands down from her back, fingers tracing down her ribs to her hips as she thrust out towards him, grinding her body against his. He kept exploring by touch, skimming his hands over her hips to the small of her back. He kneaded softly with his fingertips at the top of her ass and then slowly slipped his hands down into her shorts.

She forced down a moan that bubbled up from deep inside her gut. She need not have bothered because it slipped out as he pulled his tongue from her mouth and bit down on her lip. He loved the sound of that first moan, they way it felt as it vibrated past her lips. He wanted to hear more of them and maybe see if he couldn't make them just a little louder too. He started moving down her chin, then onto her neck. He alternated between kisses and sharp nips on her skin. She wrapped one leg around him and he pulled her groin towards him. He could feel the muscles in her buttocks jump as he squeezed each cheek with his hands. He kept pulling her against him, grinding her pussy against his growing erection and working her into a heated tizzy.

"Oh fuck…this feels good" She said as he kissed her collarbone. He smiled and lifted her up; his hands still plunged into her shorts. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her other leg around his waist as he carried her up the stairs. As he took the steps he whispered into her ear:

"And I'm just getting started."

With his hands full, he kicked the door open to the room. Against the wall was the bed. He set her on the bed and then lay down on her right. Country hadn't put an AC unit in the house and the temperature was climbing. Both were covered with a thin film of sweat but were beyond caring. He traced his tongue along her jaw, down her neck where the edge of her tattoo began. He started following the design, feeling the raised sections where the ink had been fused to her skin. His left hand slipped under and around her neck as he readjusted. He pulled up on her top so it bunched up below her neck, revealing her breasts; large but still firm and pert. They rose and fell with her breath and he couldn't help but gaze in wonder for a moment. All those days spent on the ocean, sneaking glances at her when she wasn't looking, paled in comparison to seeing Revy lying with him for real.

His mouth clamped down on a nipple, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. Her hands fluttered as she searched for his unused right hand. She found it and brought it down her stomach, pushing it down towards her shorts. Her pussy was throbbing madly now and she could feel her panties quickly becoming soaked. Her front of aloofness and distance had been left to fend for itself alongside the road and she tugged at his hand, pushing him closer to her belt.

"Rock…here…" She gasped, trying to force his hand under her belt.

"Shay pleashe." He said as he continued to suckle at her breasts.

"C'mon…uuaaaaahhh!" She moaned as his teeth closed down on a nipple and tugged lightly. He'd figured out quickly and correctly that she like mixing a little pain with her pleasure.

"Puh…please!" She said, her voice wavering. He kissed her again and smiled as he popped her belt buckle.

"That's a good girl."

"Don' say stupid shit like tha-aaaaaaahhh…" He dipped his hand down the front of her shorts easily since she never bothered to button or zip them up. He was delighted to find her pussy devoid of hair so he could feel exactly how wet she'd gotten. He ran his fingers down the length of her lips, softly parting them more and more with each pass. She was softly rocking her hips against his hand but they bucked sharply and her back arched up when he found her clit. He pressed down on the nub, rolling it around on the tip of his finger. He was surprised to find her this sensitive. A few touches to her clit had her entire body trembling in his arms.

"Little sensitive today Revy?" He asked, sliding his fingers between her lips and still rubbing her clit with the heel of his palm.

"Sh..shut…shut up." She said faintly as he started teasing the opening of her vagina while still grinding her clit with his thumb. It was a sight to behold, the indomitable Two-Hands writhing beside him, pushing his hand down her shorts as her eyes drifted in and out of focus. He decided it was time to step things up. He plunged his ring and middle fingers inside her, going all the way to his knuckles in one go.

Her eyes snapped from half-closed to fully open as her pussy clamped down on the two invading fingers. So far, he was proving much different from the other guys she'd been with. Most had been a quick "Wham-Bam-Thank You Ma'am-Now-Get-The-Fuck-Out! No one had lain with her like this, working their fingers in her for more than just getting her wet enough to fuck. He was actually watching her expressions, reading her reactions as he searched out for the exact spot and rhythm to make her body writhe like this. He thought he'd found it too and started working his fingers faster, grinding down on her clit with his thumb all the while. She had been trying to undo his belt one-handed but now that hand just clenched around the buckle as her pleasure built.

"C'mon Rocky! Make me cum!" She panted as her pussy tightened, more sensations of exstasy building in her groin. "Work my pussy, c'mon, work it more! More! More!" She cried as he slammed his fingers in her. Then she reached her peak and came, snapping her hips up and her mouth popping open in a silent scream of pleasure. For a moment he thought she was going to break his fingers from how tightly she was squeezing them, the muscles rippling on his fingers as she came.

The ride over, she let her hips collapse to the bed, her body as limp as wet rope. He pulled his fingers from her pussy; her lips pulling back at his fingers as they tried to suck them back inside. He sat up, letting her slump on the mattress, still recovering from her orgasm. He seized her shorts and panties, tugging them off and tossing them to the floor. Next he worked off his pants and shorts and they joined the growing pile.

He was already hard from playing with and listening to her, but his dick throbbed when he parted her legs and got a first look at her pussy. Since she'd shaved, he could see everything in detail. Her lips, pink and perfect were shining wet from her juices; her clit peeked out from its hiding spot, swollen from all the teasing he'd given it. He knelt at the crux of her hips, just brushing her outer lips with his dick. She groaned at the contact, she could feel him pressing against her.

"What're yah waitin' for…?" She said, wriggling her hips to try and force him inside.

"I told you, you're gonna beg for me." He said, grinning as she grew more flustered and he continued to tease her pussy.

"C'mon….stop fuckin' around…" She wrapped her legs around him so he couldn't pull back any further. She wanted him so badly, to feel his dick inside her. Her pussy was burning up, her body ached for him. It was maddening for her that they were so close and he was asking for what she saw as surrender on her part. Two halves of her were fighting each other. One was the fierceness, the independent streak a mile wide that everyone knew and was terrified of. It was the part that didn't need anyone and chased anyone off who tried with a hail of bullets and a flurry of fists. The other part was one that she herself had written off as dead and gone. It had started stirring that day she'd nearly shot Rock, when he forced her to take a look at herself and challenged her to stop wallowing in a pool of self-pity. It had stirred again and gotten stronger as time went by, as she got to know him, slowly letting herself ease up. As her two halves wrestled, the buried side won out. She looked up at him as he gazed down at her, like she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. She felt that warmth; fuzzy and strange that had nothing to do with the lack of AC, growing in her chest. She wasn't quite sure what it was, never having felt the sensation before. The feeling in her heart prodded at her, stripping away her inhibitions in a way all the 151 in the world never could.

"Rock…Rocky Baby please…fuck me please." She begged softly, putting stubborn pride aside. He lay with her and kissed her as he pushed his dick inside.

"Ffffuuu…aaaahhhhcccckk!" She cried as her pussy was stretched along its entirety, immense pleasure tipped with pain as she struggled to accomadate him. "Shit Rock!"

He was having a struggle of his own: trying to not cum on the spot as she clamped down on his dick in a velvet grip.

"Fuck Revy! Damn your pussy's so tight!" He said; surprising himself as the words tumbled from his mouth. How could he not though, with the way she was squeezing him, the warmth of her insides made him feel like she was going to make him melt. He started to move, pulling back until just the crown of his dick was inside her and then would push his way back inside.

This was sex on a different level that she'd never had. Her past experiences had been intense, quick flings. While the ferocity was appealing to her more animalistic side, she'd never felt fully satisfied when it was all said and done. Being held like this, slowly feeling out each other's hot buttons and knowing that he actually cared about how she felt as much as he felt was doing strange things to her head. She couldn't focus on anything but the bliss washing over her body, bubbling up in her heart, wanting to see and feel more.

"C'mon…harder Rocky!" She whined, running her hands up under his shirt. "Or are you trying to fuck me to sleep?" She teased. She gasped as she felt a sharp nip on her neck for her sass.

"Are you getting greedy on me?" He smirked, pulling back so that the very tip of his dick was just on the edge of her pussy, eliciting a whine of disappointment. He dipped his head to kiss her again and then slammed himself back inside her as hard as he could. The force sent a shock up both of their spines. She screamed aloud with ecstacy, wailing as he drew back and slammed into her again.

"Fuuuuuuuuucckkk!...Fuck! Yes! Yes! Yesh!" She panted; her jaw slack and tongue lolling out with each thrust. "Don't shtop!" He didn't stop or even slow down, how could he when it felt this good? How could he when her face was flushed with pleasure from what he was doing to her? If anything, he figured going faster could only make it better, so he did. Their breath was quick and ragged, sharp gasps with the faster rhythm. His thighs burned a little from the exertion but he didn't dare stop.

"Yesh! Yesh! Fuckfuckfuck!" She kept screaming; the sounds of her turning him on even more. He had imagined that she'd be more than just vocal but didn't count on how much he liked hearing it. He wanted more, to hear her scream his name, her to cum for him. And…if the spasms flitting through her were any indicator, that point was not far off.

"I'm gonna cum Rock! I'm gonna cum, don' shtop!"

"C'mon Revy, cum for me! Cum all over my dick!" He panted, trying his damndest to make sure he didn't finish first. He slipped his hand between them and mercilessly began rubbing her clit. Her eyes rolled back into her head, her mouth hung open as her tongue searched for his. He mashed his mouth to hers in a wet, sloppy kiss, their tongues and lips fumbling over each other as they reached their peaks.

When she did cum, he thought for a second she was going to kill him. Her legs snapped tightly around his waist, squeezing him so hard that she knocked his breath away. Her fingers raked along his back, nails slicing through his skin, drawing small lines of blood that soaked into his shirt. Her cry of pure abandon in his ear nearly deafened him; the crowd at the Flag probably heard her if the wind was right. The rippling of her muscles in her pussy and the way it was squeezing his dick like a vice made it feel like if he didn't stop moving, she'd break him clean off.

She'd cum before, seen stars from both men and women but this was almost too good. She couldn't control her body; her hips wouldn't stop heaving against his. It felt like a thousand tiny explosions were going off inside her as she quivered from head to toe like she'd touched a live wire. All she could do was cling to him, like a shipwrecked sailor holds onto a rock and ride out the storm.

He couldn't do it, he couldn't hold out any longer. He'd put up a valiant effort but the feeling of her cumming made it impossible. He wrenched himself from her, feeling her trying to suck him back in the whole way and found his release, erupting a spray of hot cum over her stomach and breasts.

Exhausted from their exhertions, they collapsed on the bed, bodies lifeless and limp. Their only movemets were to breathe and an occasional twitch of an aftershock. Rock slowly recovered first, throwing off his sweat soaked shirt and tie to the floor. He balled up one of the sheets and started to clean off her stomach. She smiled as she watched him, her eyes still hazy.

"Jeez Rocky, you got jizz eevvv'rywhere." She said, pulling off her top and adding it to the pile. "Is your aim always that bad? Maybe it's good you don't carry a gun." She teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it." The Darker Rock had retired for now and the Softer and Kinder one had resumed management.

"Eh, after a fuck like that I think I'll forgive you."

"Well thanks for that." He chuckled and pulled her against him. They softly kissed again for a moment and just lay quietly for at least an hour, enjoying the feeling of the other next to them. "Sooo…this may be a little out of order." Rock said as he lazily traced Revy's tattoo with his finger. "But do you want to go to the movies with me sometime?"

"You sure pick funny times to ask questions like that." She said. "Not right now though..."

"Why not tonight? It's only ten, the night's young."

"You made good on your promise Rocky Baby. I can't feel my knees; I'm not walking anywhere anytime soon."

"Well, do you want to go again? Since we aren't going anywhere…" He asked, pulling her against him and kissing the back of her neck. She didn't answer him so he contented himself with holding her close. He dozed off. He awoke to Revy stirring in his arms. According to the clock on the wall another hour had passed and she'd probably been laying awake the whole time. She rolled over and sat up; looking like she had something she wanted to say but couldn't articulate what it was. "Revy, are you okay? You're not regretting this already are you?"

"No, it's just…I feel…" She started to say something but trailed off; her thoughts were as tangled as the bedsheets. "I…no. Well, it's like…" She fumbled, twisting the covers nervously in her hands. Rock sat up too and gently took her hands in his own.

"Revy, it's okay." He said softly. "Whatever you have to say, just say it."

"Why me?" She asked, looking down at their hands. "I'm sure there are plenty of other women you could find that aren't as fucked up as I am. Why have you stayed in Roanapur? You can leave any time you want. Just have Country fly you back to Japan." Rock sat silently for a moment so he could gather his thoughts. He knew that he would only have one shot to say this and he had to get it right.

"Because you woke me up and pulled me out of a life that would have had me miserable beyond surviving. Sure, living in Roanapur isn't the safest or sanest path to have chosen. But you have been there for me every step of the way, even when you could have easily left me to fend for myself. Because of you, I have lived, done and seen more in the past year and a half than I did in all my life. That's something I can never forget." He took his right hand from hers and cupped her chin, lifting her face up so he could look her in the eyes. Hers were awash with a vulnerability that made Rock choose his next words very carefully. "But even with everything I have seen, everything I have done, I'm still nothing but a bullet, a lump of useless lead. Revy, will you be my gun? Baby, will you…"

"…Light my fire…" She whispered. The room grew so quiet Rock could hear the beating of his own heart. The silence was deafening to him and after a few moments, he found his voice again.

"I love you Revy." She didn't even so much as blink. She slowly put her hands on his chest, pushed him down onto the bed and lay on top of him. This time she initiated the kiss and after a minute broke it off. For a moment she seemed at a loss for words. Then, in a voice so gentle Rock hardly believed it was coming from her, she said:

"…I love you too."

. . .

"Whiskey River take my mind!...Don' let her mem'ry torture me…" Country sang as everyone walked back from the bar. Most of them, Country, Dutch, Eda, Benny, Jane and Sawyer, were drunk as skunks. Only Lotton and the Twins had clear heads but the Twins were sleepy. Hansel was hanging off Country's back, his leg had been hurting him, and Country was carrying Gretel in his arms.

"Whiskey River don' run dry…yer all Ah got…" He continued but Sawyer shushed him.

"You're going…to wake…them up." She said, drunkenly swatting Country's arm.

"Yew kiddin' me? These two sleep like stones. Ah could run ah freight train through tha livin' room an' they wouldn' even so much as roll over."

"Well then…stop singing…for our sakes."

"Yer all Ah got, take care of me!" Country sang anyway, his infectious laugh even got Sawyer to smile. At the gate, Benny, Jane, Eda and Dutch kept walking to their barracks but Lotton said he had to go.

"Oh, you don' hafta go, yer welcome tah crash on tha couch." Country offered.

"No, I must go. The Night needs me!" He swung his coat around as a strong wind blew, rustling the trees, masking his departure into the darkness.

"Ah can still see him." Country whispered to Sawyer, forcing his whiskey-addled eyes to focus.

"So can I…he's behind that tree."

"Do…do we say sumpthin'?"

"No…we just let…him have his fun. He's been watching ninja movies…again. And the night…really doesn't need him…he's just going…to go find Shehuah."

"Ohhhh…..gotcha. Uhm…so…hey, join me fer ah nightcap after Ah git these two put tah bed?" Country asked. Sawyer fidgeted with the long sleeves of her shirt, holding them up by her cheeks that had turned bright pink from one too many martinis.

"Uhhhmmm…okay. Just one I guess."

Country pushed open the front door with his foot and held it open for Sawyer. He started up the stairs but stopped halfway up.

"What is it?"

"_Sniff sniff!...Sniff sniff!_ You smell tha Mizz Sawyer? Sum-thin'…smells…_Sniiiiiiiiiiifff!_…funky." Country, still carrying the Twins, tiptoed up the rest of the stairs and came to a stop outside the last room down the hall. Sawyer quietly followed him, and they both peered through the half open door. When they finally saw the sleeping and intertwined occupants, Country choked down a laugh and Sawyer flushed from pink to beet red.

"Ah knew tha boy had it in him. Dutch 'n' Benny is gonna have to eat their hats…an' Eda is gonna looove to hear 'bout this."

. . .

* * *

I hope that this chapter wasn't a total dumpster fire and you at the least finished it. Lemon scenes aren't my strong suit, but the only way to get better at something is to do it! It was an intense chapter to write, for me anyway. I hope you enjoyed it, and as always, please feel free to review and let me know how I did and how I'm doing!


	10. Chapter 10

Hello there FanFiction! It's been a busy past few weeks and I have been going non-stop. Summer classes ended, I went on a much needed vacation and then fall classes started...when does it end?! Anyway, I finally got a chance to sit down and start writing again. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

. . .

"So yah went to tha movies didja?" I asked Rock. He was up on the forward turret, scannin' tha horizon with a set of binoculars.

"Yep. It was really fun, I think she enjoyed it."

"What'd y'all go see? Titanic? Casablanca? They was showin' Gone with tha Wind tha other day."

"Nope. The Terminator, she absolutely loved it. All she could talk about the whole way back was how she wants a computer targeting system implanted in her brain." From behind the binos he smiled at the thought.

"Ha! Ah'll be. So didja git ah goodnight kiss, gonna have a secon' date?"

"Well…it wasn't a goodnight kiss per-see." He lowered the binos an' leaned against tha turret railing. "But I guess you can call it that. There was kissing involved…" I had tah smile at that, rememberin' tha look on his 'n' her faces tha moring after their romp. Ah'd gotten tha airfield's PA system workin' and can hook up ah radio, music player or ah microphone to it. So Ah set it to level ten an' started playin' Reville on full blast. As tha recorded bugle made the windows rattle, tha Twins an' I kicked in their door, hollerin' "Good mornin' campers! Have ah nice night?!" I'd never have guessed human bein's could turn that shade of embarrassed.

"Well good fer you Rock, good fer you." I walked down the deck an' stood next to the turret. We'd taken the _Black Lagoon_ out to an itty, bitty speck of island 'bout three hours outta Roanapur. We was waitin'on our customer to show up but they was late. Four. Hours. Late. Benny had 'em on an' off the phone fer ah while. They insisted they was comin'…soon. Since we hadn't had any other jobs for ah while and I was waitin' on ah part gittin' machined for the B-24, we had no choice but to wait. Revy'd gotten bored in the first half hour but I'd come prepared. I set her up with a copy of "High Noon at Lincoln"; it's about Billy the Kid an' The Lincoln County War. Figgered it'd be up her alley an' there hadn't been so much as a peep outta her. But the doldrums were gittin' to me as well. Well, when entertainment isn't provided, you make yer own.

. . .

"Rock, help me here." Country dropped the gangplank over the side of the PT boat and stepped ashore. The little island had been used as a meeting place hundreds of times and junk littered the beach. Crates, barrels, food wrappers, beer cans, ash from dozens of campfires, spent shell casings, salt-encrusted guns half buried in the sand and even the occasional bleached skeleton here and there along the tree line.

"What's up Country?"

"Git ah barrel an' start rollin'." Country had located a stack of 55 gallon drums sitting empty on the beach. Rock had no idea what Country was up to but decided to play along. 'Country sure has a strange way of doing things…' He thought. They collected four barrels on the aft of the boat by the depth charge launcher.

"Load one of them barrels up, Ah'll be right back." Still curious and bored enough to find out what the deal was, Rock did as he was told. Country came back with a rifle case, a metal ammo box, a chair and a burlap sack filled with sand from the beach.

"What's all that for?"

"Target practice my man! Gonna work on estimatin' range an' long distance shootin'." Country set up the chair on the deck next to the launcher and the sandbag on the rear deck storage chest.

"Okie-dokie Rock." Country loaded a round into his M14. "Gimme ah few clicks on tha launcher an' let 'er fly." Rock hit the release and the barrel flew up and out from the boat, splashing down into the ocean where it bobbed gently like a cork.

"How far do yah reckon it is?"

"Huh?"

"Range, how far out is tha barrel?" Country asked as he sighted through the scope.

"Uh…maybe 200 yards?"

"Ohhh…kaaayyy…200…centered fer 100…drops one 'n' half inch at 200 'cause it's ah heavy bullet…quarter inch per click…tha's six clicks…ten up an' four down…no wind tah speak of…" Country adjusted the scope, turning one of the elevation knobs. He settled down on the gun with the forend of it resting on the sandbag. He breathed deeply in, then slowly out, sitting for a moment with his lungs emptied…and fired. A splash of water jumped in front of the barrel, a miss.

"You was off ah bit. It's called ground shrinkin', its real bad on water. Tha ground looks smaller tha further out yah look so yah think it's closer than it really 're probably at…oh…350 yards." Country readjusted the scope again and fired. _Clang!_ The round hit the barrel and the impact echoed back to the boat. _Clang! Clang!...ClangClang!_ Country put four more rounds into the barrel. He looked over at Rock and asked if he'd like to try his hand at it.

"Me? Oh no, I don't really like guns." Rock explained, trying to not hurt Country's feelings. Country just said "Hmmm…" and peered at Rock over his aviator sunglasses.

"Ah think yer confusin' tha issue." Country picked up the rifle and opened the bolt. "Yah see, there's good folks an' there's bad folks. Bad folks do bad things an' good folks try an' do good things best they can. What truly seperates tha two is their intent an' not tha tools they use to 'chieve their ends…wouldn' you agree?"

"That sounds right I suppose."

"So, bearin' that in mind, we can reason guns ain' bad, right? They're jest tools. No different than knives, hammers, axes or Mizz Sawyer's chainsaw. Ah mean; you can use guns fer ah bunch of things. Huntin' of course, but also competition, targets, trap an' skeet fer shotguns, they even have obstacle course an' Cowboy action shootin' at home."

"Cowboy? You mean, they put on hats and spurs and shoot old revolvers like the western movies?"

"Exactly. They shoot all kinds of scenarios; it's like pretendin' yer Doc Holiday or Wild Bill. They even shoot from horseback; an' more than jest revolvers but lever guns an' shotguns too. It's ah real hoot to watch, let alone participate."

"That actually does sound kind of fun."

"Shall we go gitcha fitted fer ah Stetson an' some chaps when we git back?"

"I think I'll work my way up since I'm an amateur." Rock accepted the M14 from Country and was immediately struck by how heavy it was; it must have weighed nine or ten pounds. He then realized that even though he was constantly surrounded by guns, he had no idea how they worked or how to go about firing one. "Uh…how do I…?" Country chuckled and took the gun back.

"Sit on down an' lissen to mah preachin' fer ah minute." Rock sat on the chair and Country cleared his throat. "Okay, this is an' M14 rifle. In this configuration, it's also known as tha M21Sniper Weapon System. It shoots ah 0.308 caliber round. 0.308 means 0.308 of an inch sized bullet. It's also called ah 7.62mm by 51mm with 7.62 bein' how big across tha bullet is an' 51 bein' how long tha entire cartridge is, its NATO's designation. Now, it uses twenty round detachable box magazines. Take ah look." Country took out the magazine and handed it to Rock to look at.

"That little part on top is called tha follower 'cause if follows tha bullets. Under it is ah spring that pushes tha follower. Now, yah load rounds into it like so…" Country took it back and loaded five rounds so Rock could see. "Make sure yah push tha rounds to tha back, you don' want that bullet tip catchin' on tha mag wall. It'll scratch tha hell outta it an' it could jam up." He put the magazine down and picked up the rifle again. "Okay, this parts ah little involved. These are yer basic parts. Barrel, front sight, rear sight, forestock er fore-end, bolt, bolt handle, firin' pin, breach, sight adjustment, magazine well an' magazine release, trigger, trigger guard, safety, scope mount, scope an' buttstock." Country went over the basic features of the gun, pointing out each one in turn and opening up the bolt so Rock could look inside. "With me so far? Stop me if Ah'm goin' too fast."

"I'm good so far. So…how does it work?"

"First you put in yer magazine like so. Always make sure it latches otherwise it can an' will fall out or yer rounds will git outta kilter an' you'll jam up. Next, yah pull back on tha bolt like this; see how tha follower pushes up tha round? Now, see here tah little groove on tha shell? On tha bolt face is ah little claw that hooks onto that an' helps pull tha round out of tha chamber, right here." Country twisted his arm so he could point out the small extractor and the opening to the barrel.

"So…when the firing pin hits the round…then what?"

"It hits here, on tha primer. Tha primer is real sensitive, like ah Liberal's feelin's. It goes off an' ignites tha gunpowder in tha shell. That powder turns to gas an' pushes tha bullet down tha barrel. Tha's where tha bang comes from, gas escapin' behind tha bullet an' tha bullet goin' supersonic. Now, some of that gas gits tapped through ah hole in tha barrel an' into this tube under it. In that tube is ah piston an' its tail end is attached to tha bolt. So tha piston is pushed by tha gas an' tha piston moves tha bolt back. When it does, it pulls out tha spent casin' an' ejects it." Country pulled back on the bolt until the round flipped out. "And then tha piston hits ah return spring, pushin' everythin' back forward. Tha bolt picks up ah new round, chambers it an' yer good to go again. Now, this version of tha M14 yah hafta pull tha trigger fer each shot, its semi-automatic. Tha original version of this gun, tha full-auto version, did this entire operation 700 times ah minute…perfectly."

"Wow…that's incredible. A lot of engineering went into making this, didn't it?"

"Sure's hell did. So yah wanna try shootin' it?"

"You know what? I do, let's see what happens."

"Alright, turn 'round then, feet little more than shoulders apart. Sit so tha gun'll be 'cross yer body, not at ah 90 degree angle." Country placed the rifle on the sandbag and Rock adjusted his posture. "Take up yer rifle, buttstock in tha crook of yer shoulder, yep, right…no, hey…stop movin'. There. Left hand, hold tha stock here on tha sandbag…good. Okay, right hand here, thumb over, AH-AH-AH! Don' you be touchin' that trigger boy or Ah'm cuttin' that finger off!"

"Sorry! What did I do?!"

"No, Ah'm sorry, it's alright. Ah fergot tha rules. Remember: Always leave yer finger off tha trigger 'till yer ready to shoot. Always assume every gun handed to yah is loaded, check tah see if it is an' treat it accordingly. Never point it at anythin' you ain' willin' to destroy. Always keep it pointed in ah safe direction, even if it IS unloaded. Finally, always know yer target an' what's standin' behind it. Oh, an' never call ah magazine ah clip or vice ah versa or Ah'm gonna beatcha over tha noggin' with one 'till yah git 'em straight."

"Right…I can do that."

"Good. Okay, git settled so yer leanin' into tha gun…good. Fingers here, here…good. Now git ah good weld 'tween yer cheek an' tha stock. Yah want it so you move with tha gun when it recoils. Now, do you have ah full scope picture or is it still dark on tha edges?"

"Still kind of dark…"

"Try movin' back an' forth so you git ah full scope. W'all don' git that close or tha scope'll bonk yah in tha eye an' Ah'll hafta laugh at you an' you don' want that." Rock got himself adjusted and settled into the rifle. Country loaded the magazine and chambered a round for him.

"Now, push tha safety forward 'till it clicks." He did and felt a small click and heard a metallic snap. "Yer weapon is hot, ready to shoot. Breathe real slow now. Count yer breaths, in fer ten seconds, hold fer ten seconds, out fer ten seconds. Squeeze tha trigger with tha last pad of yer finger an' fire with empty lungs. Tha shot should be ah pleaseant surprise. Now, yer sighted fer this range, jest put tha crosshairs on tha barrel an' fire when ready." Rock took his breaths as Country had instructed…in and out for counts of ten. He emptied his lungs, slowly squeezing the trigger, feeling the inner mechanics inside the gun move. He pulled, pulled, pulled…_BANG!_ A split second later there was an echoing _Clang!_ as the bullet hit the barrel.

"Good…good." Country said, nodding in approval. "Now prove it wadn't ah fluke an' hit it again." Rock resettled himself and lined up…squeeze, squeeze, squeeze…_BANG!...Clang!_

"Again." _BANG!...Clang!_

"Again." _BANG!...Clang!_

"Keep it up." _BANG!...Clang!_

"Sock it to me." _BANG!...Clang! _

"I think I'm out." Rock said as the bolt held open on the empty magazine.

"Here yah go, twenty rounds." Country held out a full magazine. "Load up an' Ah'll launch another barrel." Rock dropped the empty magazine, laid it on the chest and inserted the new one until he felt it lock into place. He loaded himself a fresh round and was about to fire when Country stopped him.

"Hang on ah secon', Ah've been spoilin' yah. Don' move." Country reached over the gun and fiddled with the mounting brackets, removing the scope from the gun and leaving Rock with open sights.

"Put this post…" Country leaned over and tapped the front sight with his finger. "In tha middle of tha circle of tha back sight here. The barrel is at 200 an' tha's what these sights are set fer. Jest aim right where yah wanna hit." It was a little harder now, the front sight post coverd the barrel. _BANG!...Bong?_

"Yah jest winged tha left side of it." Rock made a slight adjustment…_BANG!...Clang!_

"Good. Now hit tha rest." As Rock fired, he was surprised to find himself smiling. The recoil wasn't as bad as he thought it'd be, the rifle thudded into his shoulder with each shot but it didn't really hurt. He could feel the piston snap back with each shot, the bolt cycling to eject and bring up a new round. Each spent shell spun through the air, shimmering in the tropical sun before hitting the deck with a _Ping-a-ting-a-ling!_ as it bounced. It was quite satisfying to hit the barrel each time, hearing the _Clang!_ echo back as the sound of the shot echoed across the water. Once he ran out of rounds, Rock looked at Country who was laughing at him.

"What's so funny?"

"Ah've seen that look ah dozen times but it never gits old. You've got stars in yer eyes an' ah smile big as Texas."

"Well, I never thought I'd say this…" Rock looked down at the rifle. He could feel a little heat radiating from the barrel, the smoothness of the stock, the smell of the oil and spent powder. Holding the rifle Rock would normally felt revulsion, like someone had handed him a snake. But now he felt the power that it could put out in 0.308 caliber doses, the respect a gun carried and the responsibility it demanded from its shooter. It was a new feeling for him and it filled him with excitement. "But damn this is fun." Rock said, his smile spreading from ear to ear. Country reached out for his rifle and Rock found himself reluctant to hand it back.

"Ah toldja so. Go 'n' git Revy, Ah'm gonna set somthin' up. Tell her tah bring extra ammo fer her Cutlasses." Rock went below-decks and headed for Revy's cabin. She was lounging on her bunk, long legs propped against the bulkhead, book in one hand and cigarette in the other. Her eyes were far and away to the sands of Lincoln County, New Mexico.

"Hey you." Rock sat down on the bunk next to her, she didn't even move as she was transfixed on her book. He smiled; glad she finally had a pastime that wasn't planning how to kill everyone in the room. She still hadn't moved so Rock decided to try something. Sawyer had told him about a weakness of Revy's and exactly how to exploit it. He placed both hands on either side of her, just above her hips and below the hem of her shirt. Then, without warning and certainly without mercy, he began to tickle her. The effect was instantaneous.

"Ahahaahaha! What're you?!...Noooooooo….stopitstopitstopit! HAHAHAA!" She laughed, her entire body writhing on the bunk, her book dropped from her hands. She tried to roll away from him but he kept after her. She rolled into a ball, trying to hide her stomach from him but she only made herself a stationary target. "Rock!...stopitstopitstopit…Haaahahaaahaha!...Oh I can' breathe! I can' breathe!" He stopped and she lay panting as she caught her breath. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead in apology.

"Sorry, but your mind was gone off somewhere and I had to get you back somehow."

"Well you didn't have to go and do _that._" She sat up and picked up her book. "I was at a really good part. They're about to shoot it out with the U.S. Army! How badass is that?!" She said with genuine excitement, her eyes lit up as she told him about the story.

"You're really enjoying this; you've turned into a real bookworm you know…"

"Hey! Shaddap, I'm no bookworm, it's…this story's just…got a really cool plot is all." She turned pink as she fumbled with her words. "I'm just, you know, 'cause I was bored…" He smiled and hugged her, hardly believing she let him hold her like this. A few weeks ago she'd probably given him a black eye for it.

"It's okay. I won't tell anyone what a huge nerd you are." He whispered and got smacked with the book for it.

"You'd better fuckin' not or I'll have to beat the hell outta you. I have a reputation to uphold dumbass."

'And the scary, terrifying Revy is back.' He thought.

"So what're you down here for anyway? I heard shooting earlier."

"Oh that was Country shooting his M14…and I even shot a few rounds."

"You? Shot a gun?" She swung her feet off the bed and rubbed her face like she was trying to clear her mind. "The world really has gone nuts. Well, let's see whatcha can do Mr. Gunslinger."

. . .

"Kick the can? How old are you really Country? Ten, eleven, no, nine?" Revy asked as she, Rock and Country stood on the beach. Country had scrounged around and found three large coffee cans. He'd set them up fifteen yards out, spaced about ten feet apart.

"Mentally ten Ah suppose. Okie-dokie Rock, here's how this works. Yah git one magazine or in mah case, two cylinders so's fair. All yah gotta do is hit tha can as many times as yah can, fast as yah can."

"Well that sounds easy but I've never shot a handgun either."

"Mizz Revy, he's yer pew-pill."

"Okay Rock, Country taught you the rules right?"

"Always assume it's loaded, finger off the trigger until ready to shoot…"

"Yaddah, yaddah, yah got it. Beretta 92FS, 9 by 19 millimeter, 15 in the mag, one in the pipe. Safety an' decocker, slide, mag release, trigger, business end. It's double and single action, so is Country's revolver. You don't have to cock it to fire, just put a round into the chamber, safety off and fire away. This gun will hold open when you're empty. Just drop the mag, new one in, this is your slide release…" Revy showed Rock the whole process of loading, unloading and how to hold the gun. "Don't hold it so tight like that. It's a gun, not your dick. You just have to let it recoil a bit, lighten up and relax." Revy said as Rock's death grip made the gun shake.

"Just line up the back sights on the can, make this an' this one even and settle the front between the back two…and just squeeze the trigger."

_BLAM! _The recoild surprised him a little and the gun jumped in his hand, the muzzle kicked up and sent the round three feet behind the can.

"Well, yah didn' hit it but sure put tha fear of God in it though. Try 'er again." Country observed. _BLAM! _A foot to the left._ BLAM!_ An inch low. Rock was getting used to the recoil, it wasn't too bad now and the gun was settling better in his hands. _BLAM! Clank!_ The can flipped around, spinning in the sand.

"Hit it again Rock." Revy said. _BLAM! Clank!_ The can flipped to the left and Rock redjusted. _BLAM! BLAM!_ He missed twice as the can flipped further away. He hit a few more times and the slide locked open as he ran out of ammo. He looked over at Revy and Country, smiling again.

"Hmmm…not back Rock. Looks like yah got…8 outta 15. Okay Mizz Revy, its yer gallery." Revy cracked a grin as she loaded the Cutlass.

"Yo Rock, watch this." She leveled her guns on her coffee can and opened up. _Blah-BLAM! Blah-BLAM! Blah-BLAM! _True to her namesake, she fired first with her right and followed up with her left. The can was shredded as it bounced around the beach like a cat on a hot tin roof.

"Now that's how it's done!" Revy boasted, tucking her Cutlasses back into their holsters. "Revy Two-Hands! Baddest motherfucker in the South China Sea!"

"W'all tha's true an' all, but Ah ain' gone yet." Country squared off against his can. His body language changed, feet shoulder width apart, hips out, shoulders back with his hands hanging loosely by his gun belt. "Draw you Got-Damned sum-bitch!" He yelled like he was a cowboy on the plains. The Highway Patrolman cleared leather and Country fired two quick one-handed shots from the hip. The can popped straight up and threw sand everywhere. Country shifted to bring his gun up to shoulder height, fired two more with just his right hand and then swapped the gun to his left. He fired two more shots and then switched to his right again. He popped open the cylinder and shook out the empty shells. He dropped six new ones in from a speed loader on his belt and flicked the cylinder closed. Now he shot with both hands, two right handed, two left and then two right again. The can was was perforated with holes and nearly ripped in half.

"That's pretty good Bumpkin." Revy said as Country reloaded and holstered his gun. "But why do you keep switching hands?"

"Gotta be able to shoot jest as well with either hand. What if Ah git pinged in tha arm? That an' Ah trained to have my knife in one hand or be wearin' mah brass knuckles. Can' shoot too well with them on mah right hand, so I gotta learn to shoot lefty."

"Good points." Rock said. "Hey, can I try a few shots from yours?" Country smiled and drew his gun, spinning it around so he held the grip out to Rock.

"Wondered when yah was gonna ask. It's single or double-action like Revy's. Pull back tha hammer an' fire or jest pull tha trigger."

"There's no safety on it?" Rock asked. Country held up his trigger finger.

"This here's yer safety. 'Sides, double action on ah revolver's ah little harder than ah semi-auto. See fer yerself." Rock accepted the gun and was surprised again how heavy one of Country's guns was.

"How do you walk around with this thing strapped to your leg all day? It's heavy as a bowling ball!"

"Carry it long 'nough an' it don' even feel like it's there." Rock initially tried to hold the gun one-handed like Country did. He found his hand and arm shaking too much from the unaccustomed weight. 'Why are Country's guns all so damn heavy?!' he thought, sighting on his coffee can and pulling back the hammer. _Ka-BLAM!_ The gun kicked a lot more than Revy's Beretta but the weight nullified that a little.

"Now try it double-action." Rock started to pull the trigger. It started off easy but he ran into a wall as the hammer began to come back and the cylinder began to turn. "Havin' some trouble there Rock?"

"Ah…a little." _Ka-BLAM!_ As he'd struggled to pull the trigger, his aim went wild and the bullet splashed into the sand.

"Little harder ain' it? Tha's why it don' have ah safety, it don' need one."

"I guess not. Can I finish the cylinder?"

"Knock yerself out." Rock pulled back the hammer and lined up on his can. It felt really cool to be shooting a revolver. It was just like one of the outlaws Revy was reading about in her book.

"I don't know if I like the kick on this one." Rock said as he handed the Patrolman back. "It's a little too much."

"Tha power's worth it tah me. Watch this." Country went to the nearest palm tree and picked up three fallen coconuts. He tossed them down the beach and pulled his gun again. "Yer gonnna like this." _Krak-BOOM! Krak-BOOM! Krak-BOOM!_ Three shots rang out to their left, each like a clap of thunder. The coconuts exploded from the bullets, sending chunks of their husks all over the beach.

"Dutch! Yah darn show-off!" Country said as Dutch laughed and reloaded his S&W 629. "Yah think ah three-fiddy-seven is bad Rock." Country pointed to Dutch. "Then you don' wanna be steppin' in tha ring with ah forty-four magnum. That'll bust yer wrist if yer not careful."

"That sounds like it would be really painful…I think I'm good for today."

"Good choice Rocky." Revy said, putting her arm over Rock's shoulder. "I need your hands to keep working too yah know." She whispered in his ear.

"Ah'm gonna pretend Ah didn' hear that." Country said as he walked up the gangplank. "Y'all crazy weird. Hey Benny, they gonna be here anytime soon?"

"It doesn't look that way." Benny emereged from below-decks. "I just got off the phone with them again and also took a look at the radar. There's a huge storm rolling in between this island and Roanapur. It's going to just miss us, but it IS three hours across."

"I don't feel like fighting through a monsoon storm unless I absolutely have to." Dutch said as he disappeared down a hatch. "And I always come prepared for these occasions." He grinned as he reappeared and plunked down a cooler full of beer on the deck. "Well, work time is officially over for the day. And, as employer, I shall provide refreshments."

"God bless yer heart Dutch." Country said, plunging his hands into the ice for a beer.

. . .

"Hey…Benny."

Yeah…Country."

"Hold mah beer. I wanna try somethin'." Country scouted around and found another 55-gallon drum and loaded it on the depth charge launcher. With no explanation except a drunken and goofy grin, he kicked off his boots, unbuckled his gunbelt and stripped down to shorts and his baseball cap. He hopped onto the drum like it was a park bench and looked back at the rest of the very confused crew. "Alright! Launch me!"

"I don't think that's a good idea…" Rock said.

"It's not ah good idea. It's ah great one! Let's go!"

"Hell, I'll launch you. Let's see if Rednecks really can fly." Revy smirked as she held her hand over the release. "See yah on the moon Bumpkin."

_Fwwhhoooosshhhh! _

"Yeeeeeee…Haawwww!" Country yelled as the launcher shot him fifty yards out and fifty feet up. There was a splash of water as he came back down, the barrel landing short between him and the boat. For a moment he didn't resurface and everyone wondered if he'd drowned. Then there was a burst of water and Country popped back to the surface.

"Hot damn! That was fun!" He yelled back, smiling from ear to ear. He swam back, pulling the barrel with him and rolled it back on deck. "Who wants tah go next? Y'all gotta try this!"

"Fuck if I'm getting on that thing." Revy said, causing Country's smile to morph to a fox's smirk.

"Rock…target selected. Git 'er!" Country picked up Revy so that she was slung over his shoulder, almost upside down.

"Put me down! Put me down or I'll beat the shit outta you!"

"Rock! Her guns! Quickly now!" Rock grabbed the back of Revy's holster and slipped it off.

"You give those back right now! I'll cut your nuts off if you don't! Rock, are you even listening to me?!"

"Oh, git tha four by four outta yer ass an' have some fun fer ah change." Country plunked Revy down on the barrel and held her arms so she couldn't twist around and slug him. "Benny! Gimme ah countdown!"

"Five, four…"

"No! Please no!"

"Three, two…"

"Let me go! Let me go right now!"

"One. Ingition."

"Fuck you all!" Laughing like a hyena, Benny punched the release, yelling "Liftoff!" Country sprang back as Revy was launched skyward.

"I'mmm…gonna…kill..yoouuu…" _Splash!_ Revy resurfaced, gasping for air and looking mad as hell. She swam back and got on deck, water puddling around her. She looked like a cat that had been forced to take a bath.

"Hey there Drippy. Have ah good swim?" Country laughed.

"Screw off. You." She pointed at Rock.

"Uh-oh. You're in for it now." Benny said; making sure he was out of the way.

"I'll get to you in a moment Benny. You." She pointed at Rock again. "On the barrel…now."

"I'm not a huge fan of thrill rides…" Rock started to back down the deck, away from an irate Revy. He made it only two steps when he felt his feet leave the deck. Someone had picked him up by his belt and the collar of his shirt.

"Ain' nothin' personal Rock." Country said as he carried Rock aft. "But Ah ain' about tah go against ah mad Revy. Up yah git." Country set Rock up on the barrel and called over to Revy. "Fire in tha hole!" Revy punched the release and Rock found himself airborne. _Splash!_ He came back down after flailing through the air and shot to the surface. As he looked back to the boat, he saw Benny being loaded onto a barrel and swam quickly to get out of the line of fire.

"Okay Dutch, yer turn." Country said, loading a barrel.

"It's actually really fun Dutch." Revy said. She'd gotten over her fear of the launcher and had gone four more times. She and Country started down the deck towards Dutch.

"Don't even think about it." Country and Revy stopped; they knew better not to mess with him.

"Oh…fuck it. What the hell?" Dutch stood, kicked off his boots, dropped his gunbelt and slipped off his flak jacket. He walked over to the launcher and sat down on the barrel. "God, I am an idiot. Benny." He put his hand over his sunglasses to they wouldn't fall off. "Fire in the hole."

. . .

"So how are things coming with the Twins?" Dutch asked as we sat on the deck of the Black Lagoon, drip-dryin' in the sun.

"Ah reckon we're makin' good progress. They sure seem happier, gittin' some color in their faces, put on some weight so they don' look like waifs no more."

"Well that's nice." Revy said, not looking up from her book. "So what do they do in their spare time? Skulk around lookin' for souls to steal?"

"Oh hardy-har-har. Nah, mostly they follow me 'round. It's amazin' how intah everythin' they is. Ah'll be tinkerin' with tha B-24 or tha Corsair an' Ah'll look over tha edge of tha wing an' there'll be two sets of blue eyes…jest starin' at me. Ah'll aske 'em 'Whaddya want? Need somethin'?' They'll jest say 'No. We were just wonderin' what you were doin'.' They'll crawl right up on the wing an' watch me work. Then it's jest non-stop questions. 'What's that? What's this? How does this work? Why do you do this that way? Why is this part shaped so funny?' Jest jabber, jabber, jabber. They like hangin' out with Lotton, he's like ah big brother to 'em. He brings over his game system when he watches 'em an' they'll play fer hours. Mizz Shenhuah don' seem too keen on 'em but Ah don' think she likes kids in gen'ral. They git 'long with Mizz Sawyer real well, Ah think tha's why they play tricks an' games with her. She seems to like hangin' out with 'em, they like ah lot of tha same books an' she'll sit readin' with 'em."

"That's all well and good." Dutch broke in again. "But the big question is how are they doing mentally? We aren't going to have to lock them in a barracks or something like that are we? They haven't been violent or anything?"

"Well…yes an' no. See, they like bein' busy an' havin' somethin' tah do. Ah think they've figgered out that bein' idle is their worst enemy. When they're sittin' 'round, their brains git bored an' start playin' tricks on 'em. They're liable tah git real moody, grumpy an' even start givin' me sass. Worst though's been tha flashbacks."

"Oh no." Dutch groaned. "I was afraid of that."

"I think I've heard of those. They can't be all that bad right?" Rock said.

"They can be anywhere from a minor annoyance to a big fuckin' deal." Dutch explained, lookin' like he was gearin' up for ah story. "When you experience something really traumatic, it fucks with your brain. Best way to describe it is an example. In 'Nam we had a Gunnery Sergeant that'd been in Korea. He'd fought at the Battle of The Chosin Resevoir; the Marines there were surrounded and almost overrun. His platoon was holding this ridge and was really low on ammo when Chinese troops attacked, just wave after wave. When their ammo finally ran out, the Gunny and all his guys started using whatever they had on hand as clubs and their hand-to-hand weapons. Logs, their guns, bayonets, hatchets, bipods, entrenching tools…it got ugly. Gunny said that he wasn't sure of the exact number, maybe five, but the official report says that he beat twenty one Chinese soldiers to death with a shovel. Well that night stuck with him in the worst kind of way. Every now and then he'd snap and think he was back in Korea. He'd start running around, screaming orders to the guys in his old unit and it was really bad if he had anything in his hands because he'd start hitting anyone in arm's reach."

"Did he have a trigger, something that'd set him off?" Rock asked, wide-eyed as he tried to imagine killing one person with a shovel, let alone twenty more.

"Whistles, the same one a football ref uses. The Chinese used them to signal their attacks and coordinate their movements, especially in the dark. So, sometimes if he heard a whistle, he'd go nuts."

"Ah've heard 'bout that. There was ah guy in town who'd go off if there was ah loud bang, like ah car backfirin'. He was in tha Battle of Tha Bulge, one of tha guys surrounded at Bastonge. But so far, tha kids don' seem to have anythin' that sets 'em off. Tha most common thing so far is tha nightmares." Jest thinkin' 'bout the subject made me yawn. They'd had one tha other day an' my sleep cycle was still outta wack. "They'll git to screamin' an' hollerin', usually in Romanian. Occasionally they'll even throw punches an' kicks; Hansel clocked me in tha jaw real good last week."

"You know, that really doesn't sound like an improvement to me." Benny said, tryin' to be Mr. Johnny Raincloud.

"C'mon Benny man, cut 'em some slack. You heard all tha shit they've been through. At least they don' torture small animals in tha basement, pull tha wings off butterflies or haven't butchered me, wrapped me in block paper an' stuck me in an icebox."

"When you put it that way, it sounds like they're coming along quite well." Benny conceded, probably imaginin' himself crammed into tha freezer.

"Thing of it is, Ah'm runnin' outta things fer them tah do. Most of tha buildin's are cleaned out an' ready for refittin'. We took the last few truckloads of scrap to tha junkyard tha other week, tha inside of tha house is spotless; y'all could eat off tha floor. That'n Ah can only have 'em mow tha airfield's grass so many times."

"Oh, I'm sure I could find the little twerps something to do." Revy offered as she flipped a page in her book.

"No Mizz Revy, yer not usin' them tah make liquor runs when yer too drunk tah drive to tha store."

"Well never mind, forget I offered."

"Ah was thinkin' about sendin' them to school, but Ah don' think they're ready fer it quite yet." Everyone nodded in agreement, imagining the ways the Twins'd git expelled fer puttin' some poor kid in tha hospital.

"But they need somethin' tah do an' need tha schoolin' so Ah was thinkin' one of us could do tha main stuff like readin', writin' math an' sech."

"So who do you have in mind?" Benny asked. "Rock? I'm sure he'd do well."

"Nope. Not Rock. You Benny."

"Me?!" He pointed to himself with his eyes wider than ah deer's in tha

headlights. "Why me?"

"Well both you an' Rock is purdy smart but there's ah hitch. See, the Twins need some computer time an' skills too, learn how to type an' use the web. Since yer tha only one with ah rig an' don' let no one else touch it…you've volunteered yerself."

"Well, what if I say no?"

"Then that means someone else is gonna hafta touch yer computer. Decisions…decisions, Benny mah man. Ah'm willin' to pay $10 an hour."

"Only $10 an hour? You're gouging me!"

"Do Ah look like Ah'm Scrooge McDuck with ah pool of gold coins tah swim in?"

"I want $20 an hour."

"Yer smokin' crack man. How's $15 an' you git lunch?"

"Free lunch…hmmm…I set the courses, time, assignments and all that right?"

"Ah'm givin' you full artistic license on this. Ah'll expect progress reports of course but yeah, it's yer oyster." Benny looked over at the rest of the crew, mullin' it over. He looked at Rock and asked what he thought.

"You know exactly what I think Benny." Rock said with ah dead serious voice. "Remember when Gretel was on this boat? You and I had our little chat on deck?" Ah wasn't sure what Rock was gittin' at, but it sure did have an effect on Benny. He almost looked ashamed of somethin', like he'd made ah call that had turned out the opposite of what he'd thought. Maybe somethin' about how tha Twins were doomed to never change? Ah don' know, didn' think to ask. But it seemed to solidify whatever thoughts were in Benny's mind.

"Well, I can hardly belive I'm saying this…" He reached over with his hand fer me to shake. "But you've got yourself a tutor Country."

. . .

"Okay you two, I guess I'm going to be your tutor." Benny said, addressing the two beaming faces sitting attentively before him. They were using one of the Quonset huts as a classroom with map reading tables for desks and even had a chalkboard. Benny wasn't quite sure where to begin, so he decided to type up a test for reference. "This is just to see what you do know and give me a starting point. There's no time limit or anything, just work on it best you can." The Twins picked up their freshly sharpened pencils and started writing. After about half an hour, Benny picked up their papers and dismissed them for the day, no point in doing too much at once. As Benny started going over the tests, he realized that he may have gotten in for more than he bargained for. Benny looked over his notes of what the Twins already knew again to see if there was anything he had missed:

· Literature = Narrow, interested in horror / thriller.

· History = Zero

· Philosphy = Zip

· Astronomy = Zilch

· Computers = Can't even turn it on

· Politics / Social Studies / Current Events = Nada

· Chemistry / Physics = Primitive at best (Explosives do not count!)

· Mathematics = Can add, subtract, multiply and divide…barely

· Anatomy / Physiology = Profound and practical

· Biology = Limited

· English (Lang.) = Mastered

· English (Writ.) = Needs improvement, penmanship looks like they write with their feet

· Reading Comp. = Adequate. Recommend continuing reading sessions with Sawyer and Country

· Misc. and Notes = Knowledge of firearms is impressive, fighting and tactics as well. Physical education pointless, exceptionally strong for age. Intelligent, cunning, resourceful, can be manipulative. Recommend emphasis on history, math, writing, chemistry / physics and social studies / current events. Reading Comp., philosophy and literature will improve with time. Not bothering with bio, astronomy or anatomy. Will have to start computer work ASAP.

"Oh man this is going to be a lot of work." Benny said, looking over the results. "I didn't realize just how lacking they were. Then again, for never having gone to school, this isn't a bad starting point. Well, best get something drawn up for tomorrow. Something easy to start; maybe penmanship so I don't have to interpret everything they write."

. . .

"So how is things comin' 'long with tha Twins?" Country asked from underneath his truck. "It's been ah good month."

"Pretty good, after two days of practice, I could actually read their handwriting." Benny said as he gave his progress report. "Their math skills picked up quickly, I'm just doing addition, subtraction, multiplication and division…maybe some very basic algebra if they feel up to it."

"W'all tha's good. I knew they was smart. Anythin' they're enjoyin' in particular?"

"They really like history, math they're not so keen on. Chemistry has been interesting, they like practical applications and it seems like conceptual lessons bore them."

"Of course, kids always like doin' stuff with their hands. Its easier fer them tah understand. Hand me the five eighths wrench please." A grease-stained hand appeared from under the truck and Benny placed the wrench in it. "Ah never should've tried goin' over that barricade. It bashed tha hell outta mah oil pan an' it's been leakin' ah quart a day. Tell Dutch that was tha last time we ever do tha Sicilians ah favor. Anyhow. So things are goin' good overall?"

"Yes, I think so. Jane has been helping too when we go out on jobs and she has started them on her laptop. They picked up on typing and using the computer pretty quickly. I'm even considering asking them if they'd be interested in programming."

"Now that'd be interestin'. It's all black magic tah me how computers work, but maybe they can make sense of it. Maybe even git 'em ah job someday." Country rolled back on his creeper and looked up at Benny. "Yer doin' ah good thing yah know. Don' forget that education an' havin' ah future is what's gonna really save those kids. Oh, Ah asked Rock tha other day what he meant about 'yer talk on tha boat when Gretel was on it'."

"Oh you did? What did he say?"

"Told me that you didn' put much stock in tha Twins. Whaddya think now?" Benny stood quietly for a minute, leaning against the truck and looked at the house. Hansel and Gretel were eating their lunch on the porch and flipping through a worn history book about the Romans. In the few months they had been staying with Lagoon, the transformation seemed incredible to Benny. They were much better behaved, had less nightmares, violent tendencies had diminished and their interest in new subjects and learning was astonishing. There were still bad days, nightmares and flashbacks. Nothing too serious had happened, just minor setbacks. Benny hadn't thought it possible, but there they were; eating peanut butter and banana sandwiches, reading about Roman aqueducts and laughing like normal kids that had grown up in a normal house with a normal mom, normal dad, a dog and white picket fence. Having nine criminals as their role models may not be an ideal situation but it somehow seemed to be working.

"I'm…well, I don't know how to say it. I guess I'm having crow for dinner tonight." Benny admitted. "I certainly wouldn't have bet on them a month ago." He remembered what he'd said to Rock, feeling guilty for having been so cynical. 'If someone was just a little bit kinder, those kids would have come and gone to school, made friends…talk about eating your words. No point on dwelling on it though.' He thought. "So what're you going to do for the rest of the day once you finish up here? We're going to start into the Middle Ages after lunch."

"Goin' out to hunt up some food. Our budget is shot 'cause of work bein' slack an' we've ran outta meat. Unless we git some work an' soon, we're gonna have issues. Ah sure don' wanna see anyone, 'specially tha kids, goin' hungry." Country crawled out from under his truck and dusted himself off. "Ah'm glad yer doin' this Benny, Ah really am. You got ah real knack fer this sorta thing…yer ah good man."

"Well…thanks I guess. Anyway, I'm going to start class again. Good luck hunting."

. . .

"Rock, must yah tramp about like an' elephant?" I asked as we walked off the road into tha woods.

"Oh, sorry. Am I really that noisy?" Rock asked, looking down at his feet and the first pair of boots he'd ever worn…and the first pair of jeans he'd ever worn too. Dutch had disappeared as was his usual habit, Revy was at the Church playin' cards with Eda, Benny an' Jane were holdin' class and I was not goin' huntin' by myself with Mr. Lin's Rascals out and about. So Rock found himself in the jungle with a shotgun, followin' me in tha search for somethin' called ah Sambar deer I'd read 'bout in tha paper.

"Pick yer feet up when yah walk." I said.

"I am. How else could I walk?"

"No, like this." I demonstrated, lifting my feet a foot off the ground with each step. "Put yer feet down softly, heel first an' roll it forward. That way yah can feel sticks an' what-not under yer feet."

"Oh, okay. Sorry about that."

"An' do yah haftah yell?" I asked as we continued into tha woods. Rock was talkin' like he would back at tha airfield. Normal conversin' is akin tah yellin' in tha woods.

"I'm not yelling!" Rock practically hollered in mah ear.

"Will you please whisper then? Jest humor me."

"Really? I am whispering."

"No, yah ain't. Stand there an' face tha other way." I said an' started walkin' away so I could prove mah point. I got 'bout ah hundred yards away an' asked Rock if he could hear me.

"I can hear you perfectly." He damn near shouted.

"Turn around." He did an' looked surprised by how far away I was. "Sound carries much farther in the woods an' there isn't as much background noise tah interfere with it. So does smell too. Ah can smell lit cigarettes ah hundred yards out, two if tha wind is right."

"Sorry, I didn't know." Rock finally said at an acceptable volume. "I'm not really an outdoors kind of guy."

"Tha's fine, you'll pick up quick. Follow me an' step where Ah step." Rock nodded an' we continued into tha jungle.

. . .

Rock certainly was not an outdoors type of guy. After walking for a few hundred yards, his calves started to smart from the new way of walking. It was an exercise in concentration for him, making every step quiet and trying to stay in Country's boot prints despite their marked difference in stride. It was very humid out with little breeze filtering down and Rock found himself sweating. It was dark in the forest with the thick canopy blocking most of the sunlight. Flies and mosquitoes buzzed around his head, singing in his ears. Slapping at them became too frustrating and he just tried to ignore them like Country did. Country was slipping through the forest like he lived there, moving softly through thickets, over hills and under low limbs. His movements were slow, deliberate and no more than what was necessary. He had his M14 held low, scanning in a wide arc for deer. Rock had a Winchester M97 shotgun on his shoulder and it felt like the sling was digging into his flesh. He shifted the sling on his shoulder, trying to readjust the unaccustomed weight. He hadn't planned on using the gun, but since Country had brought it along and offered, he decided he might as well carry it.

"Hold up. This is ah good spot." Country stopped at the top of a small rise that overlooked a creek and a clearing on either side of it. "We'll sit here for ah bit an' see what we can see." Rock and Country sat down just below the crest of the hill so they wouldn't be silhouetted but could still see behind them.

"So you really like hunting huh?" Rock asked as they scanned the woods for movement.

"Yep, one of mah fav'rite things tah do." Country said, sitting at the base of a tree with his rifle across his lap. "Always nice tah git outside an' back tah nature."

"It is nice out, really quiet…really, really quiet." Rock observed as his ears started buzzing lightly as they strained to pick up any background noise. "So why do you like it, hunting?"

"Well, there's tha obvious which is food, so Ah can feed mahself an' all y'all. That's 'specially relevant when we're hard up on money like we is now. There's tha peace an' quiet an' gittin' away from the noise an' bustle even if jest fer a little while. That an' Ah can jest sit an' think an' enjoy tha wonder of Mother Earth."

"That's a lot of reasons. I only heard food once though; it's not all about killing something then? I'm sorry if this sounds weird, but there aren't a lot of people who hunt in Japan."

"There's ah difference 'tween huntin' an' killin'. Huntin' is takin' only whatcha need an' only when yah need it, not wastin' meat, an' makin' sure tha animal don' suffer. Fer me, Ah don' hafta shoot somethin' tah have ah good day huntin'. Some guys will git all bent outta shape if they don' git ah deer durin' season. Ah could not shoot at ah deer but if Ah watched two squirrels chasing each other, or see ah coyote, maybe have ah hawk land in tha same tree as me or even jest watch tha snow fall in muzzle loader season an' listen to tha silence of tha world fer ah few hours, then it wasn't ah wasted day."

"It sounds idyllic when you put it that way. What's killing though?"

"Killin' is jest shootin' somethin' tah watch it die. From what you've told me 'bout her, tha's what Revy did ah lot of 'fore you came 'long."

"Yeah, she's, well…had a lot of problems. Certainly not an easy life from what she has told me."

"Understatement of tha century. Ah was talkin' tah Dutch an' he mentioned somethin' called Whitman Fever. He said usually when ah new crew member comes on board, she takes ah loony fit an' shoots everyone in her sights. He said she didn' when Ah showed up, very unusual he said." Country took a drink from the canteen he had on his gunbelt and held it out. Rock took a drink of water and replied.

"That is true, now that I think about it. I wonder why?"

"Ah think it's 'cause of you buckaroo. Yer like her counterbalance; keepin' her sane. How's things goin' with you two anyhow?"

"We're doing well, as well as we can anyway. She still has days where she has trouble holding herself together and seems afraid that any moment I'm going to say it was a joke and abandon her."

"So, she's afraid yer gonna up an' leave? Why am Ah not surprised? Ah think you two is gonna turn out fine though. She's real loyal to those she cares about, seems you are too an' you two certainly give ah shit 'bout each other." Country took back the canteen and replaced into its pouch. "At tha very least yah finally got that sexual tension outta tha way. Was so thick Ah'd need tah borrow Mizz Sawyer's chainsaw tah git through it."

"Was it really that bad?"

"Mah God man, you look at her like ah daisy dropped intah ah hog waller an' she looks at you like ah shipwrecked sailor looks at an' island after driftin' at sea fer two weeks."

"Well that's not the way I would have put it…"

"Then how wouldja?"

"Well, I would say…" Rock choked down a laugh to avoid making noise. "It's like how you look at Sawyer." Country looked over at Rock and grinned sheepishly.

"So yah picked up on that huh? She's ah treat ain' she?"

"I dunno; she's real nice but kind of weird. She doesn't talk much, dresses really dark and, well, you do know what she does for a living right?"

"It's always tha quiet ones that're interestin'. Jest because they don' say much don' mean they ain' got nothin' tah say. S'far as dressin' dark, eh, it's her style an' it don' look half bad if yah ask me." Country paused for a moment to look behind him back up the hill. "An' yeah, Ah know what she does fer ah livin'. Ah don' mind none, it's ah hell of a lot better than some other jobs ah girl like her could be doin' in Roanapur. Far as Ah know, she ain' had tah sell her body or work fer that damn pervert Rowan. Even Revy worked fer him once didn' she?"

"Yeah, as a dancer in the S&M show." Rock wasn't sure how he felt about that. He just figured it was what it was and nothing more.

"Maybe Revy'll dance fer yah if yah ask real nice." Country snickered. "Anyhow, Mizz Sawyer's got ah good, steady job she does well an' seems tah enjoy doin'. Ah'm sure she's got ah suitcase full of issues, but who here in this city don't?"

"Amen to that. So do you like her, like her, or is it just a passing thing?"

"Ah dunno." Country shifted uncomfortably at his tree. "Maybe Ah do, guess we'd hafta git better acquainted first, outside of work. Know what Ah mean? She can git talkin' quite ah bit when yah git her wound up an'…oh here we go Rock." Country dropped his voice to a tiny whisp of sound as what must have been a Sambar deer slipped out of a thicket to the left about fifty yards out. It reminded Rock of the deer back in Japan, but it was about twice as large and covered with shaggy, dark hair. It had black antlers at least two feet tall and as thick as Rock's wrist at their base. It didn't seem to notice him and Country and just sauntered nonchalantly to the stream. Country started to bring his rifle up, but stopped and looked over at Rock.

"You wanna take him?" Country asked as the deer ambled about, sniffing at something on the river bank.

"Me? Oh, I, uh…well…" Rock wavered. He'd shot a gun just a month ago for the first time and that was an experience to say the least. But shoot a deer? That was asking a bit much wasn't it? "I don't know Country, are you sure?"

"Yeah Ah'm sure. You can do it, Ah got faith in yah." Country lowered his rifle and slowly slid over to Rock. "Yer gun is loaded up with slugs so you'll hafta aim real careful." Rock hefted the shotgun and lined up the bead sight on the deer. It was only 50 yards away but in Rock's mind it may as well have been a mile. "Okay, see where his leg joins tha torso an' tha little pocket there? Tha's his heart, put tha bead there. Don' forget tah pull yer hammer back." Rock adjusted his aim and pulled the hammer back, feeling it click in place. His body was tingling, his heart had climbed from his chest into his throat and was fluttering a thousand beats a minute, he adjusted his grip on the shotgun, trying to settle down and get his breathing under control.

"Don' over think it man. If yah don' wanna shoot, jest say so. If yer gonna shoot, breathe real slow an' remember tah squeeze tha trigger." Rock managed to slow his breathing and thought about what he was about to do. His first thought was that it would be killing and how wrong it was. Taking the life of this animal would be a significant first to say the least. But they did need the food, having eaten the last store bought meat the day before. Lagoon had hit a dry spell of work, so their money was low and thus their food was low too. Revy ordering take-out and pizza all the time when it was her turn to cook hadn't helped and now the freezer was as empty as their wallets. The deer was massive, at least two hundred pounds and would feed everyone for months. Besides, it wasn't like shooting a deer was going to turn him into a mass murderer or anything. He'd fished a few times off the _Black Lagoon_ while they were waiting for clients and hadn't felt bad about it. Was the fishing rod really any different from the shotgun in that respect? Rock supposed not. As he slowly came to a conclusion, his stomach growled. "Well, I know what you think." Rock thought to his stomach. He adjusted again, sighting on the Sambar's heart, emptied his lungs and fired.

The recoil of the shotgun was much greater than the rifle and Rock felt his shoulder bruise at the shot. The deer jumped straight up, kicking out its back legs and then took off through the , Rock clumsily pumped out the spent round and chambered a new one. He stood up to follow the deer but Country pulled him back down by his belt.

"Don' be runnin' off jest yet. If yah go now, you'll spook it an' it'll keep runnin' clear to tha mainland. 'Sides yer all shakes an' yer liable to blow yer foot off wigglin' like that. Jest settle fer ah minute an' let him go an' lay down. Yah made ah real good shot, he ain' gonna go far." Country smiled at Rock as he sat down, breathing like he'd run a marathon. "So how do yah feel?"

"Oh, oh God, I feel, whew!" Rock sputtered, as his heart continued to race. "I feel a little bad about it, but whoa, I didn't know hunting was this exciting."

"It's called 'Buck Fever' man an' you've got it purdy good. Far as feelin' bad, yah should. You did jest kill somethin' so yah should feel at least ah little bad. But yer helpin' control tha population, did ah good, clean kill an' we're gonna use as much of that deer as we can." Country looked down at his watch and stood up. "Okay, that'll be long 'nough. Let's go find dinner." They walked to where the deer had been standing when Rock shot and found a few clumps of dark fur and a splatter of blood on the bushes. The deer was easy to track; blood had fallen in palm sized drops about every foot. It was bright pink and bubbly, Country said Rock had probably shot a tad high and hit the lungs, still a good, quick and fatal shot. Rock took the lead and followed the blood through the trees, occasionally looking up to survey his surroundings and look for the deer. It had only gone about sixty yards through the underbrush and they found it in no time. Rock approached the deer from behind as Country had instructed and jabbed the deer with the barrel of his shotgun. It didn't so much as twitch.

"There he is. Good work Rock. How do yah feel?"

"Pretty good, I'm good. So…now what?" Country smiled and leaned his rifle against a tree. He drew the eight inch knife from his belt, the blade shimmering in the sun and held it out to Rock.

"Now shootin's tha easy part. Here comes tha work."

"What're we going to do?"

"Is no we. You. Yer gonna gut."

. . .

"At least yah only threw up once." Country said as they drove back to the airfield. "Ah've seen people who couldn't even finish tha job once they made that first cut."

"Right…I can see why." Rock said, still a tad light-headed. He'd taken Country's knife, thinking 'How hard could gutting a deer be?' and made the first cut through the deer's abdomen. The sight of the inner workings wasn't what had pushed him over, it was the smell. A wave of blood, intestinal tract and stale air from the lungs washed over him and he threw up his breakfast and then some. Country took pity on him and did most of the work but left the major cuts for Rock. They'd cut everything free from the heart and lungs all the way down to the entire digestive system. They'd then flipped the deer over so everything would fall out and some blood would drain. Then, Country took some rope and hooked the deer's front legs around its head and they took turns dragging it back to the truck. A passing jeep from Hotel Moscow stopped when they saw Rock and Country trying to load the deer into the truck bed. The soldiers agreed to help them load it on one condition: they wanted pictures. They took turns posing with Rock's deer, holding first the M14 and then the Winchester M97, holding the antlers up and a few more poses. They said some of them had family abroad and wanted to send them pictures that looked like they were off having adventures. Rock and Country were more than happy to oblige.

"Haaallllloooooooo in tha home!" Country called as he stopped the truck next to a tree in front of the house. "We're back!" The Twins shot out the front door and down the porch, Benny and Jane were right behind them. A window on the second floor opened up and Revy leaned out of it, still half-drunk from her poker game.

"What tha hell is you yellin' about yah damn hick?!" Revy asked, drunkenly rubbing her face. "Some people are tryin' to sleep off hangovers!"

"Rock shot us food! Two hundred pounds of it!"

"Shot food? What're you talking about?"

"C'mon down an' see!" Revy disappeared from the window and reappeared out front, her eyes still hazy.

"What the hell are you going on about…" She asked as she rounded the truck and looked into the bed. "Oh. My. God." Revy gasped as she saw the deer in the truck and looked over at Rock. "You shot this?"

"Yep." Rock said, smiling and hiking the shotgun up his shoulder. "And I only threw up once when we gutted it. But yeah, I mean, we needed the meat so…tah-dah?" He said; standing with his arms held out like the deer was a Christmas present. Revy looked at Rock for a moment like he had gone crazy but started to laugh.

"Oh Rock, what am I going to do with you?" She said, putting her arm around him. "First you start shooting and now you're hunting, what's next?"

"He's gonna go to tha garage an' git tha winch, its chain an' ah ladder is what's next." Country said as he handed the Hansel the guns and asked Gretel to get the camera so they could commemorate the moment. Rock got the items from the garage and Country backed up the truck to the tree. He said they had to let the deer hang for a bit and the rest of the blood drain out. They secured the deer with rope, tied the rope to the chain and used the winch to hoist the deer up and out of the truck. Then Gretel came back with the camera.

"Okay, say cheese!" Gretel said and the shutter clicked. Rock was standing next to the deer, shotgun in hand and beaming proudly. The picture printed out and Gretel shook it a few times before handing it to Rock. "Here you go Rock! One trophy photo. Now, there is a photographer's fee you know."

"Oh really? And how much is that?"

"One venison steak per photo."

. . .

Dutch waved goodbye to his ride and walked through the airport gate as the motorcyclist roared away. It had been a productive afternoon and there was only one thing that could make it better. _Grrrooowwllll…_ his stomach complained.

'Man I'm hungry.' He thought, rubbing his stomach. 'I sure hope someone was able to find something to eat. I really don't want to wait around fishing for another hour.' As he walked down the road along the runway, his nose picked up a powerful odor. It wafted through the air and pulled on him, drawing him to the house. The first thing he noticed was the deer hanging in the tree with a lower leg missing.

"What in the hell is that doing here?" He said, wondering where the two-hundred pound deer had appeared from. He followed the smell around the back of the house, it grew stronger and potent.

"Dutch! Where yah been?" Country asked, hacking off a piece of meat from the roasting leg. "Oh, Benny an' Ah welded this up, looks good huh?" Country pointed at the grill behind him, a 55-gallon drum on its side, a quarter cut away, a rod run through a hole at the base and top that skewered the deer's leg and four supports holding it up. Charcoal and cooking rocks glowed cherry red in the bottom of the barrel. Country held out a chunk of meat on the end of his knife to Dutch. He took it and ate. Immediately his stomach clamored for more.

"And who do I thank for this?" Dutch asked as Rock raised his hand, mouth full of food. "You Rock?" Dutch shook his head and laughed as he accepted a beer from Benny. "I'm not surprised by anything anymore and you know what? I don't even care." He cut himself a chunk off the leg and sat down at the table. "So, tell me Deerslayer, how did you bag the big one?"

. . .

* * *

I find that when I'm writing the main parts of the story, I get little ideas for other things that could be happening in the breaks between the action. This chapter had a few of those ideas in it. Doing a chapter where there isn't any big shootouts or explosions was new but it was fun to do, relaxing almost. Do not worry though, the fighting isn't over yet! As always, I hope that you give me your thoughts and continue reading! Ah, it's good to be back.


	11. Chapter 11

It has been two weeks...two mind-numbing weeks of class. 18 credits is more like 18 kicks to the nads, but it is what it is. I have been wanting to do some more with Shenhua, Lotton and Sawyer, they're such fun characters to write with. That and of course: The Lab, The Doctor, The Benefactor, Mr. Lin and his...charming, I'm sure...Rascals, and our favorite mafia heads Mister Chang and Miss Balalaika are all back in action!

The Doctor was nearing his wit's end. He had spent weeks searching for the Twins and he still couldn't find them. He'd tried the obvious places first: churches, orphanages, hospitals, the fire department and the police station. Nothing. The Church on the hill was a dead end as well. He'd been told by the gum-popping nun that God was out playing golf and he should…in politer terms, sodomize himself. How could someone with such a foul temper and nasty mouth wear a nun's habit? The Doctor pushed the thought from his mind and checked his list. There was only one place left for him to check and that was the old military airfield.

The Doctor winced as gravel and rocks from the dirt two-track clicked against his BMW E36 sedan. He didn't even so much as glance at the two signs by the gate. He also failed to observe the silhouette target and its many holes. If he had, things may have gone differently for him.

The dirt road ran between the runway on his right and the old facility buildings on the left. The Doctor stopped outside what he figured was the old commander's house. It was a wooden, two storied structure with a wrap-around porch. On the porch at the front of the house was a worn sofa, a clothes dryer and humming washing machine. To the left of the house was a two-car garage with a pair of Sambar deer antlers mounted on the wall above and between the doors. In front of the garage was a dark blue '59 Ford F-250, splattered with mud. Next to that was a red '65 Pontiac GTO, riddled with holes, up on blocks with its hood open and its four flat tires stacked against the garage. Its engine hung from a hoist and dripped fluids into a pan. Three clotheslines were tied to the front porch post and a t-shaped metal pole next to the garage's driveway. Cut-off jean shorts, black tank tops, white button-up shirts, black slacks, blue jeans, mechanic jumpsuits and rows of socks hung from the lines, drying in the breeze.

The Doctor stepped out of his car and looked around to see if anyone was home. He could hear a series of sounds coming from the right side of the house: _Whack!...Whack!...Whack!_ and then _Ping!...Ping!...Ping!_ The Doctor rounded the corner and saw a man with blue jeans, a blue Corona t-shirt, steel toe boots, a bandaged left leg, and ball cap; splitting wood. He'd score the surface of the logs with the ax and then pound wedges into the logs with a sledgehammer to break them.

"Well howdy there!" The man waved and put down his sledgehammer. "Can Ah help yah sir?" The Doctor was taken aback by the accent and cheery demeanor. Most people he'd encountered had been less than happy to see him. He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat and began his rehearsed story.

"Why yes you can help me. I am Agent Smith from the Department of Health…"

"Whoa there Seabiscuit, yer from tha Gov'ment?" The man interrupted him, his smile slowly fading from his face. "We ain't too fond of seein' agents 'round here…"

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that. I shall try to be brief. Now…"

"Ah'm sorry to be interruptin' again, but you don' look like yer ah field agent."

"You…you don't say?"

"Yah look a little under-done; like you've been spendin' time in ah lab under fluorescent lights rather than outside in tha sun."

"Oh…I have never tanned well."

"…Fair 'nough. So as you was sayin'."

"Yes, well, I have had two subjects from my research facility escape. They are very dangerous and it is of utmost importance I find them."

"That sounds like ah potential problem. What do they look like?"

"A male and female with blonde hair of slim build, about 13."

"Humm…" The man said, scratching his beard and looking quizzically at The Doctor. "What kinda research didja say you were doin'?"

"I didn't and it's classified."

"'Spose it'd be, wouldn't it? So what makes 'em dang'rous?"

"Well, uhmm…it's…" The Doctor wavered as his story was picked apart. 'What is it with this man? His accent makes him sound about as sharp as a bowling ball.' The Doctor thought. 'But he keeps asking all these questions I never even thought to prepare answers for!'

"Ahmm…that's classified as well."

"'Course it is." The man hooked his thumbs into his belt and walked towards The Doctor; stopping next to a waist high stack of split wood. "So…lemme git this straight." The Doctor hadn't fully grasped how tall the man was and now stood nervously in his shadow. "There's been an escape from ah classified lab, two subjects whose condition is classified, they's dangerous but as to why is also…classified?"

"That's right sir."

"An' then, tha Gov'ment sends an' old fogey like yerself, fifty pushin' sixty, bombin' around in ah $40,000 car, with no partner agent, no back-up, no badge, no gun an' no description 'sides gender, hair an' age…" The man's smile came roaring back as it widened into a face filling grin and he began to laugh. "Don' mean to be rude, but Ah think yer lyin' to me. Now, here in Roanapur, we's all one big, stupid-happy family, so why don'cha jest be honest with me an' Ah'll see what Ah can do?"

"Very well, I can see being dishonest isn't going to get me anywhere." The Doctor conceded. He figured he would get further with the truth and maybe just intimidate what he believed was a simpleton. "I'm in the employ of one of the directors of Extra Order, a mercenary company. Perhaps you have heard of them?" The man looked over at the GTO, down at his bandaged leg and grumbled out:

"Yeah, we've met."

"Well, I've been conducting some research on their behalf and two of my subjects escaped. My employer is furious of course, he's even considering calling in some extra help. He runs an organization that has a local branch here in addition to his E.O. connections."

"Oh? An' who'd they be? Gangs 'round here are like ticks in summer, everywhere an' all up in yer business."

"I'm told they're one of the fiercest in the city. Surely you have heard of the Roanapur Rascals?" The man's face clouded over and the grin slumped to a scowl.

"Agent Smith, if tha's yer real name, Ah'm 'fraid you've overstayed yer welcome." He reached behind the log pile and pulled out an M1928A1 Thompson sub-machine gun. The Doctor turned deathly white and took a few shaky steps backwards. He was expecting at the most an old side-by-side or handgun, not a Thompson!

"Now yah seem ah decent man an' Ah don' wanna shootcha. Jest git in yer car an' skedaddle. Do that an' we won't have any problems."

"I must protest! I don't understand!"

"Didn' you see tha sign?" The man asked, clearly puzzled. "Ah don' want anyone runnin' with Mr. Lin or any of his Rascals comin' 'round here. Now please git lost an' stay there 'fore you start tryin' mah patience." The man hadn't pointed the gun at The Doctor yet, but he had a feeling the man had used it before. Without a word, he turned quickly and hustled to his car. His fingers fumbled with his keys and once the car was started, he stood on the gas pedal and headed for the gate. As he did, the man in the blue Corona t-shirt pulled out a pad of paper and pencil from his back pocket and took some quick notes:

_BMW, blue-grey, ding in right rear fender, Plate: Alpha Charlie Tango, Oh-Seven-Niner. Desc: Male, white, grey hair & beard, full. 50 – 60. Avg height. Portly, glasses. __**Knows about H & G**_

. . .

"Hello sir!" The Doctor tried to pass himself as cheerful and optimistic but came off as a nervous wreck. "I was just about to call you."

"I'm sure you were." The Benefactor wheezed over the phone. "And you were going to call with good news right?"

"Well, I have at least determined where the subjects _aren't_…which unfortunately seems to be everywhere."

"So no good news." The Benefactor beckoned for Silas. "Doc, I'll be honest with you. You're a good researcher but a shitty detective. I'm pulling you off of this. Go back to the lab, do whatever voodoo it is that you do."

"Okay…but who is taking over the search?"

"Someone who is a little more competent with these sort of things. I'll call you later. Oh, real quick; how is the new intern working out?"

"Not very well, he's dead I'm afraid. He was checking a lead and triggered a shotgun trap. The man at the residence is a raving lunatic. He believes that aliens are trying to scan his brain so he wears a hat made of tinfoil and has wallpapered his apartment with the material."

"Eh, oh well. Too bad, so sad. Talk to you later." The Benefactor hung up and rubbed his temples, his head consumed in a growing migraine. "Silas, assemble a squad. Find those kids…alive."

. . .

"I really need to find a cooler ride. This is just…humiliating." Lotton thought as he maneuvered his moped through traffic. He'd wanted something with a lot of style and power. But without a successful bounty for weeks and paying his share of rent at Shenhua's, it was all he could afford. "Maybe a '69 Camaro SS…or a real motorcycle like Sister Eda rides." As he passed the Yellow Flag, the _Roanapur Raider_ roared overhead, headed for the mainland. Country had asked Lotton to watch the Twins while Lagoon was gone. Lotton had been promised the flight was a short hop; a few hours out, a few hours back. No big deal.

Lotton shut off the moped, adjusted his backpack and walked inside the house. Hansel and Gretel weren't in the living room, which was strange. Usually they were waiting for him on the couch, excited for the newest game he'd brought. He figured they must be upstairs so he started to hook up the system to the TV. He turned the TV to the news as he fiddled with the cables. Maybe there was a new bounty that would be announced and he wouldn't want to miss out on that. His recent attempts hadn't gone quite according to plan but that was no reason to stop trying. Perhaps Shenhua could give him some lessons or pointers; she seemed to be a lot more in-tune with assassin work. As Lotton messed with the game system, he turned up the volume as the arrest reports were announced. Because of the sound, he didn't hear the soft footsteps on the stairs or the tip-toes creeping up behind him.

. . .

"Sawyer, why we go to Bumpkin's?" Shenhua asked as Sawyer wove her truck through evening traffic. "I have better thing to do!"

"Because Lotton invited us…to hang out…and you told him…you had nothing…better to do tonight."

"Well maybe I think of something." Shenhua crossed her arms and looked over at Sawyer. "Besides, you always over at Bumpkin's by yourself, why you bring me?"

"Because…you like…Lotton." Sawyer said; smiling as Shenhua's cheeks turned red.

"Whaaa?! Me and Wizard? Girly you go dinky dow!"

"I'm just calling it…as I see it. You've been…sweet on him…ever since…he saved us from…the fire at the docks…and took us…to the hospital."

"You only see what you want to see. What about you? You play games with Lotton on TV."

"But that's…really all we do. He's a good friend…to me. We hang out…but he's too…dramatic for…my taste."

"Oh, so you no like Wizard?" Shenhua asked with a hint of relief in her voice. "Not your taste? Hmmm…" She studied Sawyer who was trying to focus on the road under Shenhua's scrutinizing gaze.

"What?"

"Yes…I see now. It so very clear to me."

"What is?"

"I think I know your taste. You like, how they say, down-home?"

"I have…no idea…what you're talking about." Sawyer slowly turned pink and tried very hard to avoid eye contact with Shenhua.

"Yes you doooo…" Shenhuah jeered. "You like Bumpkin yes?"

"No! What would…make you think that?!" Sawyer shot back a little too quickly. 'It's not like he'd like me back anyway!' She thought, her fingers curling tightly around the wheel. 'I mean, why would he? I'm short, pale and I look like a twig next to Shenhua, Revy and Eda…and that Jane too! I can barely talk to him sober, I mean, he's just soooo…I mean, he's such a nice guy, but isn't a pansy like Rock. He always asks me how I'm doing, gives me books and actually talks to me like a human being…oh wait! The other week after the Yellow Flag. I was so drunk; I hope I didn't say anything stupid. I mean, we did hang out, but I just passed out on the couch, it's not like anything happened. Oh well, it wouldn't matter anyway. Who would want the quiet girl with no self-esteem, scars and a cut throat? Why can't I be more like Shenhua or Revy? More confident, more sure of myself and not caring about what other people think about me…" Sawyer sighed and glanced at herself in the mirror. 'And not looking like I haven't slept in a week wouldn't hurt either, while I'm dreaming. And speaking of dreams…the other day I showed up to watch the Twins and Country was walking back from the hangar without his shirt on because he'd gotten hydraulic oil all over it…oh my God…'

"Sawyer! Pay attention!" Shenhua yelled; yanking on the wheel as Sawyer got lost in her thoughts. The truck swerved hard right and they nearly missed a line of cars. Sawyer glanced at the lead vehicle and saw the driver glaring back. He had a laborer's build, deep set eyes under a heavy brow. The scars across his head looked like he had used it to break rocks for a living. So intense was his glare that it chilled Sawyer to the bone and left her with an uneasy feeling; the man was pure evil.

"Hey! You okay? You nearly kill us."

"Yeah…I'm fine. Sorry, I was just…" Sawyer mumbled as she drove through the airfield's gate. 'I really need to stop daydreaming like that.' she thought.

"Never mind. We here now." Shenhua jumped out of the truck and sauntered across the lawn to the porch. "Lotton?! Twins! Where you at?" She called as she and Sawyer walked through the front door. "Lotton! Why you laying down on job?" Lotton was on the floor in front of the TV, wriggling like a fish on the deck, trussed up with the controller cables and extension cords. He rolled over and managed to spit out the paper towels jammed in his mouth.

"The Twins!" He gasped. "They're having a flashback!"

. . .

No one was sure what had caused it, but Hansel and Gretel had flipped their lids. Their minds retreated somewhere deep into their consciousness as darkness retook them. Visions of nights spent in terror, the pain of broken bones and hunger came flooding back, all congealing into a feeling of overwhelming panic and rage. The fury at their years spent suffering helplessly built and built, boiling over as their brains went into full panic mode. They had crept downstairs and knocked out Lotton, tying him up with the game controller cables. Gretel then flipped over the coffee table and took the M1928A1 Thompson and five thirty round magazines underneath it. Hansel had walked outside to the stump where Country had been splitting logs. Planted in the stump was a felling ax, nearly as tall as Hansel and equipped with an eight inch razor sharp blade. Hansel took the ax in his hands and wrenched it free of the stump. With the ax over his shoulder and the Thompson cradled in her arm like a beloved doll, Hansel and Gretel joined hands and walked through the airfield's gate. They made a left hand turn onto the main road and headed for town.

. . .

"So what we do now?" Shenhua asked as she helped Lotton untangle himself from the cables.

"We have to find them quickly." Lotton stood, adjusting his coat and ensuring his sunglasses were in place. "They're not in their right mind; God only knows what they're going to do. They could be on their way to start a massacre."

"Ehhh…sound like lot of work. Why we risk butt for Twins? Bumpkin only pay $50 per night. It not worth it."

"And here I was thinking you were pure Taiwanese." Lotton marched out the front door, leaving Shenhua speechless. "I never thought you'd bring dishonor to yourself by breaking a promise."

"What that you say?!"

"Country asked us to watch over the Twins. He didn't say 'Only if they're at the house' or 'Only if they're at the airfield'. He said 'Make sure they stay safe and don't hurt themselves or anyone else, no matter what.'" Lotton drew one of his C96 Mauser Broomhandles and checked the chamber to ensure it was loaded. "So, I'm honoring my promise and going to find them." He looked back at Shenhua. "You're not backing out on them…on me…are you?" Shenhua fidgeted irritably on the porch. She was wrestling between what she felt was going above and beyond the call of duty and having her integrity called into question. Still, Lotton was right. A promise was a promise, even if the promise paid for shit. Besides, she couldn't let Lotton go by himself, he'd probably get lost. She reached into her coat and drew her kukri knives, twirling one on its tether.

"Very well Lotton. I go. Sawyer, you drive."

. . .

"What's the plan Silas?" The man in the shotgun seat asked.

"We're going to split into two groups. One will post, the other will push. It will start on one end of the neighborhood and work its way down. The second team will be in place to intercept."

"Just like driving deer with hounds to the hunters?"

"Exactly like that." Silas said, leading a convoy of black sedans through the city. The cars were full of Extra Order soldiers, a squad assembled by Silas himself. His entire working life had been given to E.O., a twenty year career that started at the ripe old age of 14 in Bucharest. Now he was an assistant and bodyguard to one of the organization's directors. It was an extremely coveted position, only attained by a proud, highly skilled and trained few that…

"Silas! Look out!" The man in the passenger seat yelled as two children appeared in the sedan's headlights. Caught by surprise, Silas slammed on the brakes and narrowly missed the kids. The car skidded out of control, hopped the curb onto the sidewalk and plowed into the front window of a liquor store. Bottles rained down on the hood and roof of the car, covering it in a sticky sheen of rum, red wine and tequila.

The rest of the convoy, four cars behind Silas, screeched to a halt. The other soldiers, numbering twenty in all including Silas's vehicle, stepped out of their cars. Since this was supposed to be a snatch and grab of two kids, none except Silas were carrying guns to eliminate the chance of 'accidents'. They did have chains, pipes, bats, brass knuckles, if they were carrying anything at all besides their E.O. issued knife. So they felt at a serious disadvantage when they saw Gretel and her Thompson.

"Ei bine, salut acolo!" She cheerily called to the nervous group of soldiers. "Fratele meu și cu mine suntem atât de foarte plictisit. Vei juca cu noi?" (Romanian: Well hello there! My brother and I are so very bored. Will you play with us?) The two smiled, showing off their pearly white and frighteningly sharp canine teeth. Silas stumbled out through the liquor store window, dripping wet and smelling very strongly of Kahlua.

"That…that's them!" Silas reached into his coat and drew his gun, a custom Kimber 1911: match grade trigger, extended beavertail grip safety, barrel extension and compensator, threaded for the attached suppressor and loaded with twelve rounds of 0.45 ACP hollow-points. "Don't just fucking stand there! Get them, alive!"

The men charged en masse, hoping to overwhelm the Twins with sheer numbers. Gretel opened fire and cut down three soldiers with a thirty round burst, a smile splitting her face with each shot. The soldiers hit were shredded by the rounds, their organs exploding through their backs into the faces of the men behind them. When their bodies fell, the next line of soldiers tripped on the corpses and collapsed in the pools of blood and matter. Gretel laughed with glee at the sight, dropping the empty magazine to load another thirty rounds.

Hansel didn't wait for a target, he took the proactive approach. He rushed forward axe held at a low ready on his right side. His first swing was upwards and caught the lead soldier in the groin. The blade, sharpened by Country until he could shave arm hair with it, sliced through the soldier clear up to his sternum. As the axe head cleaved his body, the soldier let out a blood curdling shriek that brought out a grimace of joy from Hansel. Using the soldier's momentum, Hansel tossed the man over his shoulder and pulled the ax free at the same time. Hansel now had one soldier on either side of him with their backs turned. He swung for the one on his right and decapitated the man with one swift, clean cut. The resulting burst of blood doused the next soldier who put up his hands to shield his eyes from the hot, blinding spray. Hansel swung the ax again and the next soldier's innards poured from the gash to his abdomen, splattering all over the sidewalk. The ax had passed so easily through the soldier that Hansel found himself over-extended. Another soldier managed to grasp the upper section of the ax handle and tried to pull it away from Hansel. The man's torso exploded from the seven 0.45 slugs Gretel put through him for his trouble, showering Hansel in blood. But it was enough of a distraction for the mob to congregate on Hansel. The ax was wrenched from his hands and a baseball bat sent him flying down the sidewalk. Hearing her brother cry out at the blow, Gretel began running to assist him. One of the soldiers who had tripped on the bodies earlier staggered to his feet as Gretel ran by. He drew a small black, yellow and pistol-like object from his coat and took aim. The Taser barbs fired and stuck in Gretel's right shoulder and hip. Her body convulsed with the influx of 50,000 volts and she fell to her knees. As her muscles twitched, her trigger finger locked up, firing a full magazine of rounds in the air. The pulses of electricity over, the gun fell from her hands and she collapsed to the street.

"Well…he said alive…" Silas said, standing over the two limp bodies, pistol at his side. "Just not how much alive." He sneered at the Twins as his men began to gather up their wounded and casualties. "I'm going to break a bone in each of your bodies for every one of my guys you killed." Silas hauled back and started kicking Hansel with a reinforced combat boot but stopped mid-kick as a truck swerved around the corner and started his way.

. . .

"Did you hear that?" Lotton was leaning out the passenger window with ears pricked and eyes peeled.

"It sound like gunfight." Shenhua said as another burst echoed from the next block over. "I always like bringing knife to gunfight. It so much fun. They never expect it." Sawyer made a hard left and came upon the rear of the convoy of sedans. The soldiers had their backs turned, occupied with subduing Hansel and Gretel and picking up what was left of their comrades. Sawyer turned on the radio and tuned it to one of her favorite stations:

_This is RPA, Roanapur Punk Army! We're in the middle of a Two-fer-Tuesday, playing two great punk hits back-to-back! If you don't like it then __**fuck you**__! This is The Ramones!_

"Sawyer look out!" Shenhua yelled, tensing up as the truck gathered speed. "We going to hit that car!" Sawyer turned and laughed at the assassin's petrified face.

"I know. That's the idea." Sawyer said; grinning as her radio blasted:

_Hey, Ho! Let's go! Hey, Ho! Let's go! Hey, Ho! Let's go! Hey, Ho! Let's go!_

_They're forming in a straight line! They're going through a tight wind! The kids are losing there minds!_

_The Blitzkrieg Bop!_

Sawyer sideswiped the sedan and sent it rolling up the street, crushing a soldier too slow to get out of the way. With the music rattling windows, she whipped the truck around and brought it to a rubber-squealing stop. The trio jumped out of the cab, Lotton and Shenhua in front while Sawyer disappeared behind the truck.

"Who the fuck are you and who taught you how to drive?!" Silas screamed, veins pulsing in his head. He trained his 1911 at Lotton and Shenhua, the tip of the suppressor shaking with his rage.

"Yes, an excellent question! Who are we indeed?" Lotton said, the fading light reflecting off his sunglasses. "Well I shall tell you who we are. We are the hand of justice, striking down miscrea…" _Buhhmmpp-ahh-bummm!...Buhhmmpp-ahh-bummm!...Brum!Brum!Brummmmmmm! _Lotton's monologue was cut short by Sawyer starting up her chainsaw. She didn't even wait for them and ran past Lotton and Shenhua with the chainsaw's engine revved up.

_Hey ho, lets go! Shoot 'em in the back now! What they want, I dont know! They're all reved up and ready to go!_

_They're forming in straight line! Theyre going through a tight wind!__The kids are losing their minds! _

_The Blitzkrieg Bop!_

"So sorry Lotton." Shenhua patted him on the shoulder as a crestfallen look filled his face. "I appreciate you try and bring drama to work, but now not time or place. Maybe next time?"

"Next time it is then. I suppose I should start shooting now?" He asked as he drew his guns.

"Yes, I think that best."

Sawyer entered the fray first, charging at the terrified soldiers with her chainsaw at the ready. Silas fired at Sawyer, _Thwack!...Thwack!...Thwack!_ but the rounds bounced harmlessly off the chainsaw's guide bar. The soldier closest to Sawyer swung a lead-filled steel pipe, throwing his whole weight behind the blow with the intent to cave in her skull. With a shower of sparks and the grinding of saw teeth on steel, the soldier's blow was blocked and he stumbled forward. Sawyer reversed her swing and the chainsaw ripped through the soldier's neck.

Shenhua threw her first kukri and the blade pierced a soldier's sternum. She pulled back on its tether and as it burst free, she threw her other knife, curving its path in an arc by pulling on the tether. The blade decapitated one soldier and then slashed open the chest of another, the blade continuing in a long arc. The line then snagged the next soldier and started coiling around his neck. With a sharp tug, his vertebrae snapped and his body crumpled in a limp, lifeless heap.

"Who the fuck are they Silas?" An E.O. soldier yelled as they took shelter behind a car. "Commander didn't say anything about resistance!"

"Fucked if I know!" Silas fired at Shenhua but she moved about too quickly for him to make an accurate shot. Still, she felt the rounds buzz by and when she looked down at her coat, there were three brand new holes in it. Lotton returned fire and his higher velocity rounds sailed through the car doors. A 7.92mm bullet struck the man next to Silas and blasted out through his chest, his breath exploded with a loud whoosh as his left lung collapsed. Silas looked around to see how many of the original twenty were left standing. He counted eight…including himself.

'This isn't good, so much for numerical superiority.' He thought. 'Should I call this in? No, not yet…' His train of thought was interrupted as Sawyer's chainsaw chewed its way through another soldier, throwing blood across the car's hood and windows. 'Okay, I'm calling this in.' Silas pulled out his phone and tried to dial his Commander's number but he dropped it as Lotton opened fire on his car again and the phone rolled underneath to the exact center, just out of reach.

_Hey ho! Let's go! Shoot 'em in the back now! What they want, I don't know! They're all revved up and ready to go!_

"Sawyer! You find Twins yet?" Shenhua called as she nonchalantly dispatched two more soldiers.

"No…I haven't had…a chance to look."

"Miss Shenhua, duck please." Lotton ordered and Shenhua flattened herself onto the pavement. Lotton fired at the two soldiers rushing Shenhua, _Crack! Crack!...Crack! Crack! _With the closest threats dispatched Lotton turned to look for more targets. Silas stood, moving around his car and fired at Lotton. Three rounds hit Lotton in the chest and knocked him down. As Silas fired the third round, Shenhua threw a kukri his way. The blade missed his torso by a hair and embedded itself in the car behind him. The bladed did slice through his right tricep, causing his arm to contract and limp-wristed the gun as it fired. Because Silas had slackened his grip, the gun didn't recoil properly and the spent shell stove-piped in the ejection port. He moved to clear his pistol but Shenhua's second knife knocked it from his hand and also stuck in the car. Deprived of his primary weapon, Silas improvised. He wrapped the tethers around his arms and heaved.

"Oh…fuck." Shenhua said as she was pulled across the street so quickly and with such force that her feet left the ground. With a split-second before impact, Silas side-stepped Shenhua and she crashed face first into the side of the car. She staggered to her feet and drew one of her throwing knives, intent on gouging Silas's eyes out. With her arm up Shenhua exposed her abdomen and Silas slammed his knee into her gut. The air was forcibly expelled from her lungs and was followed by a mouthful of blood. The wound from Eda's Glock ripped open and Shenhua collapsed in a writhing ball of pain.

Sawyer ran to help Shenhua but was blocked by the two remaining soldiers. The first swung his crowbar at her and she parried with the guide bar once, twice and on the third swing Sawyer bumped the chainsaw's trigger. The chain kicked back the crowbar straight into the man's face and the blow shattered his nose and broke the zygomatic arch under his left eye. She turned to the last soldier, standing nervously with a baseball bat and shaking knees. He wavered at the sight of the pale, smiling girl covered in blood, pointing a chainsaw at his chest. As Sawyer advanced, the radio in her truck kept playing:

_Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go! I wanna be sedated! Nothin' to do and no where to go-o-oh! I wanna be sedated! Just get me to the airport! Put me on a plane! Hurry hurry hurry! Before I go insane! I can't control my fingers, I can't control my brain! Oh no, no, no, no, no!_

The bat clattered to the ground as the soldier turned tail and sprinted for his life. Silas stooped to pick up his pistol and cleared the ejection port. Once it was functioning again he fired again at Sawyer and the gun's slide locked open as he ran out of ammunition. Sawyer shielded herself from the rounds and attacked. She swung down from above, aiming for Silas's head. He blocked with the only means he had, his pistol; holding it by the frame and suppressor. His arms shuddered as the chainsaw chewed its way through the 1911's slide. He was able to shove the chainsaw back and dropped his empty and now useless gun. He sprang back away from the chainsaw aimed at his heart and started to laugh as the motor sputtered and died.

'What the actual hell?!' Sawyer thought as she looked down at her chainsaw, wondering what had gone wrong. She felt a twinge of panic when she saw the gas tank on the side and the 0.45 caliber gash that ran along the side. One of the bullets she had deflected with the guide bar had traveled down and hit the tank and now she was out of fuel. 'I really should have gotten the upgraded model…' She thought, looking down at her now useless weapon. 'Spent the extra money…oh well.' She dropped the chainsaw and started backing away from Silas.

"What's the matter little girl?" Silas sneered, throwing open his coat. "Not so tough without your toy are you?" He pulled a metal rod from its case on his belt, tapping the base in his palm. With sweep of his arm and flick of the wrist, Silas deployed his first and favorite weapon: a 24 inch titanium-steel riot baton. Faced with the new weapon Sawyer backed up farther and felt something roll under her foot. She looked down and saw the baseball bat, a Louisville Slugger. Keeping her eyes on Silas she picked it up, felt the handle wrapped with athletic tape and the dings and nicks in the wood. 'Just like the first one I had.' She thought.

_Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go! I wanna be sedated! Nothin' to do and no where to go-o-oh! I wanna be sedated! Just put me in a wheelchair, get me to the show! Hurry, hurry, hurry! Before I go loco! I can't control my fingers, I can't control my toes, Oh no, no, no, no, nooo…_

Silas swung his baton and aimed to break Sawyer's neck. She knocked his baton aside and took her swing, aiming to break his knee. Her blow landed high on his upper leg and Silas grunted with pain as the strike bruised him to the bone. He stumbled back, wildly swinging his baton to create distance between them. Limping on his right leg, Silas swung across Sawyer and opened up his left arm. For his carelessness, Sawyer bashed Silas's arm and could feel the tremor of his elbow breaking resonate through the bat.

It was getting hard for Silas to see as the pain radiating from his elbow made his eyes water and vision blur. He tried to maintain his balance while clasping his arm to his chest, mitigating the pain by a small degree. Frustrated and enraged by being outmatched by Sawyer, Silas swung with all his might and Sawyer's bat splintered into a flurry of pieces. One of the shards broke free from the bat and struck Silas on the cheek just below his eye. He flinched from the pain and closed his eyes in reflex. Sawyer looked down at the shattered bat in her hands, the shaft tapering down to a fine point. With all the strength she could muster in her five-foot-one frame, Sawyer lunged forward and drove the splintered end of the bat through Silas's chest with such force that she lifted his feet from the pavement. With the bat still protruding from his chest, Silas collapsed as blood bubbled over his lips. His fingers scrabbled over the bat, trying to decide if he should or even could try to pull the bat from his chest. His hands fell slack on his chest as blood pooled underneath him. Sawyer picked up her chainsaw and walked over to Silas as he struggled to breath and knelt down beside him.

"What's the matter…little boy…" She said as Silas faded away. "Not so tough…without children to beat…are you?"

. . .

'Oh that's a rib, that's definitely a broken rib…maybe two.' Lotton thought as he slowly sat up. He hadn't been able to buy the body armor he'd wanted that came with the ballistic plate. Instead, he had settled for regular soft armor. It had stopped the bullets from penetrating but the force from the rounds made him feel like he'd been hit with a nine-pound hammer, thrice. He rolled over and forced himself to stand, his head swimming as he staggered to his feet. He could see Sawyer helping Shenhua back to the truck. Shenhua had taken off her coat and wrapped it around her reopened wound and the white cloth was stained dark red with blood.

"Go and look…for the Twins." Sawyer said as she dropped the loading ramp on the truck, Shenhua was in no shape to climb back into the cab or haul herself into the back. "They're probably…one of the cars" Lotton stumbled over to the first car, holding his stomach and wincing with each step. The trunk one that one was empty and so was the second one. As Lotton stumbled to the third car, he heard a muffled thump. He reached the car and the loose license plate rattled as something slammed against the trunk. He picked up a dropped crowbar from one of the E.O. soldiers and forced the trunk open.

"Mister Lotton?" Hansel said as he peered through the gap Lotton had opened. "What're you doing here?"

. . .

"An' so then, tha husband looks at his wife an' says: 'What're we gonna do now? We've been thrown outta tha church AN' tha Home Depot!'" Country finished his joke as Lagoon disembarked from the _Roanapur Raider._

"Ha! You know what Bumpkin?" Revy said, trying to look like she wasn't laughing too hard. "Your jokes don't suck half as bad as when you first got here. Must be Stockholm Syndrome."

"Oh, c'mon Mizz Revy, you laugh more than yah let on…hold up." Country stopped at the edge of lawn around the house. His head swiveled left and right, eyes searching for something the rest of Lagoon hadn't picked up on. "Somethin' ain't right…"

"What's up Bumpkin?" Revy asked, trying to see what Country was looking at.

"Mah ax is missin'." Country nodded to the splitting stump. "That 'n' Hansel an' Gretel ain' runnin' out tah see us, Mister Lotton's scooter is here but Ah don' see him an' there's ah set of tire tracks in mah driveway Ah don't recognize."

"Well maybe they're in the house?" Rock suggested, crossing the yard. He opened the front door and called inside. "Hansel! Gretel! Lotton! Where are you? We're ba…ck…" He trailed off as he saw the mess in the living room. "Uh, Country?"

"Yeah Rock, what's up?" Country stepped inside and his face turned gray when he saw the flipped coffee table and the empty brackets where the Thompson and magazines had been hung. "Aw…nuts an' bolts we're screwed."

"Are you thinking flashback?" Benny asked as he too surveyed the living room. "That's what I'm thinking."

"Yep. It's what Ah'm thinkin'. Aw shit, Mizz Balalaika's gonna roast mah ass alive fer this…"

"Not if we find them first!" Benny said as he ran back outside. "Well c'mon Country! Get your truck keys and we'll go find them!"

"Why're you so anxious tah help?" Country asked as he climbed inside the truck and the old Ford engine rumbled to life. Benny and Dutch clambered into the bed and Rock and Revy sat in the cab.

"Well, if they're gone that means no more tutoring, no more $15 an hour and no more free lunches."

"Is that all they is tah you?" Country looked at Benny in the mirror. "Ah meal ticket?"

"Maybe I enjoy their company because they're capable of holding an intellectual conversation now, which is quite refreshing I might add." Country raised an eyebrow in the mirror and kept staring at Benny. "Okay, they're kind of starting to grow on me! Now get driving before they do something like start a street fight." As they headed for town, Revy spotted Sawyer's truck headed towards them. She waved out the window, pointing to the Yellow Flag's parking lot.

"Where did y'all disappear off to?" Country asked Lotton as the two parties met in front of the Flag.

"Just into town, the Twins had a flashback." Lotton said; wincing as he gingerly stepped out of Sawyer's truck. "They ran into some guys that I think were from Extra Order…it is an absolute disaster back there."

"Country! We're sooo sorry!" Hansel and Gretel cried as they ran around the truck. "We didn't mean it!" Country caught the two of them as they hugged him, looking like they were about ready to start bawling. "We were doing so well and messed up, it's all our fault! We let you down! We're sorrr…" Gretel said, lower lip quivering.

"Hey, hey now! Tha most important thing is that yer okay. Now can yah settle down fer ah bit so we can git this sorted out? We'll worry about tha flashback later, okay?" Country's tone had changed drastically to something soft and it almost didn't belong to his body. Upon using it though, the Twins began to settle down. Country picked them up and set them on the tailgate of his truck and asked if they needed anything.

"Could you do that one song for us?" Hansel asked. "Please?"

"Now? Can' it wait?"

"Pleeeease? It'll help us feel better."

"Oh all right, twistin' mah damn arm…Ahem, hem…hem." Country cleared his throat and looked around at everyone else. "Not used to such ah large audience. Okay, how did that one go?" Country cleared his throat again and after a few pitch adjustments, began to quietly sing.

_To Canaan's land Ah'm on mah way, where tha Soul of Man never dies…Mah darkest night will turn to day, where tha Soul of Man never dies._

_Dear Friends there'll be no sad farewells, there'll be no tear-dimmed eyes…Where all is peace an' joy an' love, an' tha Soul of Man never dies._

_Tha love light beams 'cross tha foam, where tha Soul of Man never dies…It shines an' lights tha way to home, where tha Soul of Man never dies._

_Tha Rose is bloomin' there fer me, where tha Soul of Man never dies…An' Ah will spend eternity, where tha Soul of Man never dies._

_Mah life will end in deathless sleep, where tha Soul of Man never dies…An' everlastin' joys Ah'll reap, where tha Soul of Man never dies._

_Ah'm on mah way to that fair land, where tha Soul of Man never dies…Where there'll be no partin' hand, where tha Soul of Man never dies…_

It was a sight to see, or rather hear. Country's speaking voice wasn't as deep as Dutch's naturally but he sang with a voice much lower than he talked. His singing voice ensured he wasn't going to be opening at the Opry any time soon but it was enough for the Twins. They calmed down instantly upon hearing the words. The two grew very quiet and looked like they were ready to drop off to sleep. As Country finished the song, Gretel even stretched and yawned. They lay down on the truck bed and started snoozing right in front of everyone. Country just chuckled to himself and asked Lotton how he was doing. Lotton countered with his own question and asked what sort of magic Country had just worked.

"Oh that? Mah Mom used tah sing that to me all tha time, 'specially if Ah had ah bad dream. One night when they had ah real bad nightmare, figgered Ah'd give it ah try. They checked right out an' went back tah sleep, works on 'em every time. They seem tah really love that little tune, Tha Soul of Man never Dies. Glad Ricky Skaggs an' Mister Rice wrote it up, saves me ah lot of grief. Anyhow, yer lookin' ah little banged up there Lotton buddy."

"Just some ribs, nothing serious. Shenhua is the one you need to talk to though." Lotton said and Country headed for the back of the truck. "Oh, and she's not in a good mood, so look out."

"Bumpkin! Bumpkin that you?!" Shenhua gasped from the back of the truck, holding her stomach. "I no get stomach opened for $50! How much you think cost for hospital?!"

"Okay, okay! Don' worry 'bout it none, Ah'll do what Ah can do." Country turned back to Lotton who was unzipping his now ruined ballistic vest. "What all happened?"

"The person who can answer that best is Sawyer." Lotton said as he dropped the shredded vest. "Shenhua and I got taken down fairly early and she did most of the fighting by herself."

"Did she now?" Country asked, walking over to Sawyer. She was standing off by herself, trying to avoid attention. "Yah went full punk on 'em didja?" Sawyer surprised even herself by smiling at Country and laughing.

"Yeah I did…baseball bat and all."

"Well Ah am eternally grateful fer that. Ah don' know what Ah'd do if somethin' happened to tha Twins. You really saved them an' me by extension yah know."

"Eh…it was nothing."

"Yer bein' modest. Hey, since yer tha hero an' all, how's 'bout Ah treat yah to dinner as ah thank you?" Sawyer blushed red and nervously twisted her shirt sleeves in her hands.

"Do you…do you mean…like a date?"

"Exactly like one." Country said, cracking a signature grin.

"Well…then…I'm free on Saturday…if that's okay."

"Saturday it is."

. . .

"Boss, this is Cho."

"Go ahead, what's happening?" Chang asked as he put the scouts on speaker.

"The man we're following from the scene has crossed into Rascal territory. He hasn't stopped running, not even slowed down. But his friends were definitely E.O. troops, no doubt about that."

'So, Extra Order and Mr. Lin's hoods are working together?' Chang wondered, looking out over Roanapur harbor. 'Well that's bad news.' He took a drink and listened to Cho finish up his report. Chang told them to keep following the man and alert him when they had new information. He walked past his bodyguard on the way to the bar. Biu stood by in his usual place, wherever his boss went, he went.

"So do you think this guy will lead us to the lab Shenhua told us about?" Biu asked as Chang settled back onto his lounge chair.

"Most likely. I can't think of anyone else who would be hosting a place like that in this city."

"Well, why not any of the other major organizations?"

"Well, the Italians are unorganized as shit. Remember when they tried to use the Twins to kill off Balalaika and got their asses burned instead? They couldn't keep something like this under wraps. The Colombians; don't even get me started. They couldn't plan this out if you gave them a ten year head start. It's amazing they function on a day-to-day basis. That only leaves us, the Russians…and the Roanapur Rascals. We know it isn't us and isn't the Russians."

"We do?"

"If Hotel Moscow had the lab, they wouldn't have patrols sneaking all around the city looking for it, now would they? They think they're stealthy but are no match for a cop used to hunting for people in a crowded city. That only leaves Mr. Lin and his Rascals. Now the only question is the actual location."

"If it's in there, we'll find it eventually. Man, a lab where people are brought back to life! Can you imagine what we can do with that?"

"Oh, don't worry." Chang smirked as he lit up a cigarette. "I have a few ideas, just to get us started. They thing we need to worry about is who called in Extra Order. Lin can't possibly afford that kind of hired help, not after Country turned his mansion into swiss cheese and everyone inside into hamburger. Hmmm…I think I'm going to make a few phone calls…"

. . .

"Capitan. This is Corporal Rurik and Private Sokolov reporting."

"Go ahead."

"The main target has entered Rascal territory. Secondary targets One and Two are following."

"Excellent, continue to monitor their activity." Balalaika said and hung up the radio headset. It was a stroke of brilliant luck that a fight between Mr. Lin's rented out Extra Order troops and an unknown party had erupted in the city. Now they could follow the retreating man and see where he went. It was just a mission to confirm what she already knew, narrow down the search area.

"The squad reported in Capitan?" Boris asked as he entered Balalaika's office. "Your face says they had good news."

"Indeed Sergeant. We've confirmed the lab is in Mr. Lin's territory. There's just one hiccup is all."

"Extra Order troops."

"Exactly. Mr. Lin by himself is weak, especially after Country gutted his officers ranks with his Corsair. He must have a connection we don't know about to get such high quality help on such short notice."

"Extra Order won't be a problem for us Capitan. It will be refreshing to fight at least somewhat trained troops instead of drug pushers and pimps."

"Oh, I do not doubt the men's abilities and agree completely with you Sergeant. The question is who called in Extra Order if not Mr. Lin?" She pulled on her cigar and looked across the city where she knew Chang's office was. He was probably sitting next to his pool, smirking like he knew some dirty little secret.

'I think I'll have to give him a call.' She thought, reluctant at the idea. 'He has that annoying habit of always having something interesting to talk about.'

. . .

Ah, this was fun to write. I love Shenhua, Lotton and Sawyer or "The Terrible Trio" I like to call them for short. It's been interesting to keep everything straight with Balalaika, Chang, Lagoon, The Doctor and Benefactor all running around. So far I don't think I've mixed anything up, let me know if I did, plot holes and all that...stuff. As I always say, I hope you enjoyed reading this latest chapter, will continue to do read and will share your thoughts with me in the review section!


	12. Chapter 12

This chapter was interesting to write, especially with The Lab and Chang and Balalaika getting more involved. I messed with it for a bit, especially a large chunk on a sleepless Wednesday night. But I think I finally got the little bugger pinned down where I want it. Enjoy!

* * *

. . .

"You don't even look like the same person." Rock observed as Country checked himself in the mirror by the front door. He'd swapped his high-cut steel toed boots for a lower cut leather pair that had been polished to a shiny, chocolate brown. His normally stained, ripped and fraying jeans had been replaced with a brand new pair that was still a deep, dark blue. He'd spent the better part of the afternoon working a can of saddle soap and some mink oil into the leather of his gun-belt, holster and knife sheath until the material was perfectly supple and shone in the light. His eight-inch hunting knife had been sharpened; the silver and black handle and the blade gleamed like a star. His revolver had been fully disassembled, cleaned, oiled and looked like a collection quality piece. His default Corona t-shirt had been exchanged for a green button-up shirt and black tie that he was nervously fumbling with in the mirror. The most marked difference however: Country had cut his hair.

The reduction of volume was remarkable. The barber had buzzed three inches of fluff off on each side. He'd left an inch on the sides, an inch and a half on the top and a little bit, about an inch, of curl on the back. The barber's clippers had also been set to a quarter of an inch and trimmed Country's beard and mustache. Finally, a straight razor had taken off the hair on his neck from the jawline down. The change was astounding and Rock was half of mind to get the camera because it might last longer that way.

"So, nervous for your date?" Rock asked as Country decided his tie was as neat as it was going to get.

"Well, Ah'd be lyin' if Ah said no." Country admitted as he polished his aviator sunglasses. He put them on, checked himself in the mirror again and asked Rock how he looked.

"You look ready to me. Revy!" Rock called upstairs. "Come and take a look at this!"

"Look at what?"

"Country got his hair cut!"

"Holy shit really?!" Revy's feet thumped downstairs and she stood almost in shock as she took in a cleaned-up Country. "Damn Bumpkin! You look almost like a normal human being." She looked over at Rock. "Look at that Rock. He's cut his hair, shaved, gone through all that work. Meanwhile, you STILL won't wear that Hawaiian shirt I got you!"

"Are you still going on about that? It got blown up with everything else in my apartment."

"Oh please, it's not like it was the only one on the planet. I got you a new one, don't you remember?" Rock groaned and slumped onto the couch. Country interrupted by clearing his throat.

"Uhm, tha Twins are out with Benny an' Jane on ah field trip, Dutch is, well…hell if Ah know, doin' what he do. There's venison in tha fridge so help yerselves. Ah'll be back whenever Ah git back." Country took his truck keys off the set of hooks next to the door and put on his hat out of habit. "Well, wish me luck."

"Hold up there Bumpkin." Revy crossed the living room as Country opened the front door. "You don't need this." She took off his hat and hung it back up. "No point in cutting your hair if you're gonna hide it. Now…loosen this…unbutton this…" She loosened his tie a bit and popped the top button of his shirt. "That's better. It's a date, not a job interview. Get out there, make some bad life decisions and don't you dare come back before midnight. Now get moving, little Spooky is waiting."

"Thanks Mizz Revy. Oh, one more thing. Ah seen you two was sittin' there real comfy on tha couch earlier but tha Twins cleaned everythin' tha other day an' Ah want it tah stay that way. So no fuckin' on mah couch or anythin' like that. Later." Revy walked to the front window and watched Country's truck pull away down the runway and out the gate. She turned around and slowly pulled out her ponytail. She shook her head and let her hair splay out across her shoulders.

"So Rocky." She said slowly, running her tongue along the edge of her lips as she smiled. "We've got the place to ourselves…whaddya wanna do?" Rock shifted himself to open up some free space and spread his arms across the backrest.

"Shot in the dark here, but do you wanna fuck on the couch?"

"Oh God yes…" She said as she crossed the room, peeling off her top and dropping it on the coffee table.

. . .

"So where's home fer you?" I asked 'tween licks of ice cream. We were restaurant hoppin', drinks at the first place, then appetizers at another, split a meal at one, split another meal at the next joint and now dessert. (Ice cream is mah per'snal favorite.) Ah'd nearly passed out when Ah picked her up, she looked so gosh darn cute. She'd done up her hair a little shorter, but left her bangs an' the locks on the side the same. She had black an' red stockin's that disappeared into a black skirt. It was like tha perfect length too, long enough to cover the subject but short 'nough to be interestin'. She had on ah regular long sleeve shirt, black an' red too an' ah black blouse on top of that. But, Ah think if Ah'm gonna be honest with y'all, the thing Ah was happiest to see on her was that smile.

"Isn't it a little…early in the date…to ask where…my place is?" Sawyer asked with ah little smile. Oh, you clever girl. "Besides, you've been…by Shehua's before. That's where…you picked me up."

"Ah don' mean this town, like, home, home?"

"Oh." That was all she said on that fer ah moment. We sat down on ah bench an' jest watched tha crowds pass on by. Try it sometime; People Watchin' is an underrated sport. "Why do you…want to know?"

"Well, Ah've known yah fer ah few months an' don' really know too much 'boutcha outside of work. What's tha secret?"

"There, there isn't one. I'm just…not used to someone…being interested…in me is all."

"Ah couldn' see why they wouldn' be. Okay, let's try somethin' simpler. What's yer full name?"

"It's Frederica. Frederica Sawyer."

"Frederica…Ah like that one. So what'd yah do 'fore comin' tah Roanapur?"

"Went to high school."

"High school, tha's it?"

"Well I'm…only 20. I haven't had a chance…to do much else."

"Whaddya do in yer spare time then? Don' tell me yer all work an' no play?"

"Uhm, well…I really like reading."

"Any fav'rites, particular styles?"

"Horror and thriller mostly…but I've started…reading some satire too."

"Satire? Oh, then you must've read 'Ah Modest Proposal'?"

"Oh my God…yes!" She said, her face lighting up. "I loved that one, Swift is hilarious!"

"He sure is ah hoot ain't he? Folks flipped their lids when they read his work didn' they?"

"Well what would you….expect of good…old Catholic Ireland? He was suggesting…that they eat babies."

"Ah child is ah most delicious, nourishin' an' wholesome food; whether they's stewed, roasted, baked, boiled or deep-fried."

"That's not in there! You made…that up!" She exclaimed, pointin' her finger at me.

"What'd Ah make up? Tha's tha quote, word fer word."

"He did not…say deep-fried."

"Well he ought've, everythin' tastes good deep-fried."

"Now you're just…being ridiculous. Oh!" She had ah light bulb moment an' pointed her ice cream spoon at me. "Ridiculous. That reminds me." She said, bobbin' that spoon excitedly. "Have you read…'The Rape of the Lock'?"

"Ah have not. Sounds kinky though." That got ah laugh outta her an' her shoulders shook as she put her free hand to her face an' looked at me like Ah was nuts. Good God she looks cute when she laughs like that.

"You have no idea…it's not what you think." I slid down tha bench, put mah arm across her shoulders an' looked down at her. In doin' so, Ah found mahself lost in ah pair of dark blue eyes; two deep pools Ah couldn' see ah bottom of, tha kind you can happily drown in.

"Well then, Frederica. Educate me."

. . .

"Sir! Please calm down!" The Benefactor was fully enraged, hobbling around his office, bellowing every obscenity under the sun and then some of his own invention, smashing everything he could reach with his cane. "You're going to have an aneurysm, please sir!" Exhausted from his tantrum, The Benefactor collapsed into his chair, chest heaving as he gasped for breath, forehead bathed in sweat. He angrily swung his cane a few more times but had run out of things to break. Finding no new targets he settled for banging it on his desk. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a pill organizer labeled "Bad Days". He gobbled down the pills and slowly managed to calm down. Of all times he'd ever wanted one; he ached for a drink, just one shot.

"Okay…okay…whoooooo…" The Benefactor did his breathing exercises like his doctor had suggested and felt his blood pressure slowly recede. "So, Private, uh, Russel was it? Right, Russel. He said that Silas and his squad got taken down by a Chink, a wack-job and some Goth kid? That's what happened?"

"That's what Private Russel said in his report. Well, what he was able to get out. He's still quite shaken up."

"Is he waiting outside? Send him in; I want to hear what he's got to say." Private Russel was shown into the office, a younger man still new to Extra Order. He was a nervous wreck, unkempt and his hands shook as he took his seat.

"Alright kiddo, I just want to say upfront I'm not mad…at you. I just want to get to the bottom of this, okay?" Private Russel nodded nervously, The Benefactor's reputation for temper and volatility preceded him. "So this was your what, third operation? What happened out there?"

"Yes sir, it was my third operation. We were heading to the first area to search and Silas nearly hit the targets with his car. He crashed into a storefront and we stopped to make sure they were okay and to secure the targets. But that's when things went to shit, pardon the expression sir. One target had a Thompson submachine gun and opened fire on us. She took down three men instantly. The other target had an ax and started cutting his way through our ranks. Both were laughing and smiling the whole time. We finally subdued them and were starting to conduct clean-up. Then a truck appeared to our rear, just out of nowhere. It sideswiped one of our cars and it crushed one man who didn't get clear. There were three of them in the truck: a girl with a chainsaw, a woman with throwing knives and a man with antique pistols. They ripped us apart; in the first two minutes they took down six, no, seven men. Silas shot the man with the pistols but I think he was wearing body armor. Silas also took down the woman with the throwing knives and took her down good. Then the girl with the chainsaw started coming for me. All I had was a baseball bat and my issue knife; a wooden bat I might add. What was I supposed to do against a chainsaw? She was even using the guide bar to block Silas's bullets! She looked like a horror movie; just covered in blood everywhere, all in black, a massive scar across her neck…she just scared the hell out of me. I dropped my bat and ran, all the way back to the lab. I'm not sure what happened to the next guy but I'm sure it wasn't pretty…"

"Wait, wait." The Benefactor interrupted. "Did you say you ran back to the lab?"

"Well yes. It was supposed to be our rally point after mission completed."

"Were you followed, pursued?"

"I don't believe so…they'd have to be pretty fast. I sprinted the whole way there."

"Hmmm…" The Benefactor closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. He was weighing his options and trying to figure out his next move. "Thank you for your report Private Russel." He said without looking up. "You are dismissed. Please report to your barracks." Private Russel stood, saluted and saw himself to the door. "Corporal, you are dismissed as well." The man exited, closed the door and left The Benefactor along in his office. He picked up his phone and dialed. It rang once and he slammed it back down. He stared at the phone angrily, feeling cornered. He picked up and dialed a different number. The other end picked up after two rings.

"Hello boss. This Mr. Lin."

"Lin. How're things in my favorite shithole?"

"How you think?! I go to Hong Kong, come back and find someone turn house into bomb range! I lose many of men, half of officers!"

"So you're a little short on manpower huh?"

"You can say that."

"Right…right. How is that little problem of yours; your side project?"

"Where you think plane come from that blow up house?!"

"I thought you told me they were a courier service with a rust bucket PT boat?"

"Look, it nothing I cannot fucking handle okay?!"

"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. I hope it is something you can handle, because I have a job for you since you're already on scene. There are two kids that I need found."

"It no problem. Send me pictures, done in week."

"Lin, the kids I need found have some friends that just took down Silas and his squad." The line went so quiet for a moment The Benefactor wondered if Lin had hung up.

"That change things. I want reinforcement."

"And they are loading up onto the helicopters right now. I'll send you the details within the hour." The Benefactor pressed the redial lever until the call ended. He sat silently for a moment, listening to the open line tone buzzing in his ear. He was not happy, no, he was _hating_ the fact he was even considering dialing this number. It was his absolute last resort. He dialed the first number he'd dialed earlier and waited for it to ring. Once, twice and they picked up.

"Speak." The person on the other end said through their voice scrambler. _BANG!_ The Benefactor slammed the phone down again, losing his nerve to speak to the person on the other end. He couldn't believe he'd almost called…_them_, whoever was manning the C.I.A. post in Roanapur. It would be admitting he was in over his head and was begging for help. His pride wouldn't allow it. There was still a chance he could fix this; he still had his resources and some time but not many and not much.

. . .

"Thank you Country…I really had fun tonight." Frederica said as we stood on the front stoop outside Shenhua's.

"Ah really did too, so nice tah talk with someone who knows their readin'." What the hell was Ah doin'? Stallin' mostly. Ah was never good at this part of dates. Didn' have too many at home, small town means slim pickin's.

"It was really nice…of you to…take me out. Usually, no one is…ever this nice…to me." She said, playin' with one of her locks of hair, curlin' it 'round an' 'round her finger. There was somethin' 'bout her that jest pulled on me. Talkin' to her was tha easiest thing Ah'd ever done. She was ah lot smarter than she let on, had ah wicked sense of humor an' could really git talkin' once yah got her wound up. Sure she was ah little different an' didn' seem ready to talk 'bout her past yet but Ah think that jest made me curious. Ah jest hoped she felt tha same way 'bout me.

"Sawyer, Bumpkin!" Shenhua called from the windah to our right. "You two suck face yet? Hurry up…whaaa!" She disappeared as a long arm belongin' to Lotton grabbed her by tha back of her shirt an' pulled her back inside; tha windah slammed shut behind her.

"Sorry, she's…got issues with…subtlety." Frederica explained; curlin' tha ends of her sleeves up intah her hands. "Uhmm…well, goodnight?"

"Yeah, goodnight to you too." That little voice in tha back of mah head woke up an' he wasn' too happy. 'What tha hell are yah doin' boy? She's walkin' to tha door, her foot's on tha step, hand's on tha knob, yer chance is slippin' away…Do somethin' yah stupid Ig-nor-a-mus!' "Hey, Frederica."

"Yeah?" She stopped an' turned back to me. Stars an' bars she looked pretty, her eyes shone in tha evenin' light an' her lips was beggin' fer attention as she nervously ran her tongue across them. Ah took her up in mah arms. Ah'd never been this close tah her, she smelled jest like strawberries, an' kissed her full on tha lips. Her eyes popped wide at first an' then slowly slid shut. Mah heart was already racin' like tha Corsair's engine but it damn near exploded with joy when Ah felt her put her arms up an' around mah neck an' start tah kiss me back.

. . .

"She's so kissable…huggable, lovable…unbelievable! She's ah mouthful of anythin' an' everythang ah man could want…" Rock could hear Country's radio playing as he pulled into the driveway. He and Revy were still on the couch. They were wrapped in a blanket, watching TV and waiting for Country to get back. He burst through the door, still singing the song from the radio. He was dancing around the foyer by the front door, untying his boots and started on his tie, still singing.

"Sooooo…how'd it go?" Rock asked, fairly sure of the answer based on Country's behavior.

"Lemme put it this way." Country untucked his shirt and pulled off his tie, twirling it as his face filled with a stupid-happy smile. "You losers are gonna have to entertain yerselves next weekend. Ah'm gonna be unavailable next Saturday 'cause Ah'm goin' on date number two!"

"That's great! Well done Country!" Rock congratulated as Country plopped down in an armchair.

"Here yah go Bumpkin, a celebratory beer." Revy slipped a leg from under the blanket and used her foot to slide a can down the coffee table. "What I want to know is why you're back by yourself? Didn't I say you were supposed to make poor life decisions?"

"Didn' Ah say no fuckin' on mah couch?" Country teased between gulps of beer, eyeballing the black tank top on the table and the white button-up shirt on the armrest.

"…Fair enough." Revy conceded. "You at least kissed her right?"

"Ah got ah secon' date didn' Ah?"

"Get some tongue action?"

"Maybe." Country stared at the TV and tried to avoid eye contact.

"Country…don't you hold out on me." Revy kept after him. "C'mon, spill. I may be naked under this blanket but that won't stop me from beatin' the truth outta you." Country fidgeted in his chair, face turning red from embarrassment.

"Okay, yeah…Ah did."

"Fuckin' A! So you do have a set of balls after all. I'm impressed."

"Well, thanks fer that Ah guess. _Yaaaawwwwnnnn…_" Country stretched out and stood up. "Man alive Ah'm tired. All tha excitement wore me out, think Ah'll go to bed. Night y'all."

. . .

If anyone had peered through the living room windows of that old commander's house, they could have mistaken the scene for any typical Saturday night "Come over and watch TV" date. Rock and Revy were still under the blanket, flipping channels and adding to the growing pyramid of beer cans on the table. It was almost picturesque in the strangest sense of the word and would have passed as uneventful. That changed however, with a single sigh.

"Something on your mind?" Rock asked.

"No." Revy lied. She had been acting strangely for the past week and Rock had noticed. Her drinking had increased which wasn't too unusual, neither was her spending time alone, walking the length of the runway at odd hours. She had started spacing out though, which was very unusual. Her moods lately were swinging like a clock pendulum: happy one day, borderline depressed the next…shed' be ripping his clothes off and sleeping alone on the couch in the same day. Rock knew all was not well in the world of Revy and he knew he'd better get to the bottom of it quickly.

"C'mon." Rock took his arm down from the back of the couch and put it around Revy, pulling her close. "I know you well enough to tell when something is bugging you. So what's up?" She had been leaning against him and sat up, staring at the carpet with down-cast eyes.

"I…I'm just, nervous about this, us…" She said, circling her hand between her and Rock. "Past relationships they…never ended well."

"What are you saying? That I'm just going to leave you or something?"

"You wouldn't be the first."

"Well you don't have anything to worry about; I'm not that kind of guy." He tried to sound reassuring but she wasn't buying it.

"So I'll just take your word and breathe a sigh of relief then? How stupid do you think I am? Do you know what happened the last time I did that?!" She asked, her voice rising. Rock had been afraid this conversation was going to occur sooner or later. Things had been going too smoothly to be true; she'd probably been working up to this over the past few days. He knew he'd have to tread carefully, an upset Revy was a dangerous Revy.

"No, of course I don't. You haven't told me much about your past."

"Do you really want to go down this rabbit hole?"

"If it can help you feel better and you feel up to it, yeah. What happened?"

"I wound up homeless, that's what! Two years in jail for breaking and entering. The day I was sentenced, he said he loved me, he would wait for me, would be there the day I got out. Well he didn't count on me making parole. He wasn't there to pick me up, strike one. He didn't answer his phone, strike two. I made it to our, well, his apartment and his new girlfriend answered the door. Strike three and I was out on the street."

"That's really horrible, but I don't see…"

"Oh, but wait! There's more!" Revy's voice was climbing in volume and had an alarmingly panic-like sound as if she couldn't stop herself and was terrified of what she'd say next. "There was the guy who also said he loved me, right up 'till I saw him in the paper with his wife and two kids. Next was the guy who took me to Atlantic City and "accidentally forgot" me there, stuck with the hotel bill!"

"Hey." A bleary-eyed Country interrupted Revy mid-rant. He stumbled sleepily down the stairs in nothing but his shorts, yawning loudly and scratching at the hair on his chest. "It's two in tha mornin'. If yer gonna be havin' ah Lover's Quarrel then do it outside. Don' you _dare_ be wakin' Hansel an' Gretel up. Now git goin', both ah y'all."

It was surprisingly bright outside for two in the morning. The airfield was far enough away from town that the back-light didn't blot out the stars and a full moon shone down, bathing the night in its pale fluorescence. The runway gravel crunching under their shoes was the only sound as Rock and Revy walked the 4,000 feet to the beach. The runway ended about 100 yards from the shore and the ground sloped down to a sandy beach. Revy seemed to have temporarily run out of steam from earlier and stood silently for the longest time. She didn't speak or move, just stared out to sea. Rock sat down and lit up a cigarette, figuring she would speak when she was ready. He didn't have to wait long.

"I…I'm sorry." Rock's ears pricked up, those were words he almost never heard her use in that order or even the same sentence. "I shouldn't have dumped that on you."

"It's okay, don't beat yourself up or start feeling bad about it."

"You know, I wish I could, not feel that is. For a while, everything was stable. It wasn't great but I was able to keep everything under wraps as long as there was a supply of stupid fuck-wits to shoot. I could keep myself cold and dead inside with each pull of the trigger; I wouldn't be happy but at least I didn't hurt either. I kept everything buried under a pile of corpses…until you showed up." Revy bitterly spat out the last few words and glared at Rock. "You just had to show up and start questioning my life and how I'm handling my shit. Then we had to go off and start fucking, which just makes it worse. And on top of that, you go and start saying stupid shit like 'Make an effort to lead a decent life' and fucking 'I love you'!"

"I do love you Revy…and I thought you loved me too?"

"Goddamn it Rock! I do love you, but do you have any idea what it's doing to me?! I can't keep them down any more. The shooting, the fighting, the killing, all the old go-to methods don't even slow the tide. Drinking doesn't work. Fucking doesn't do anything either, it just makes it even worse because I get all…twisted up inside. I don't know what to do, they won't stop."

"I still don't know what you're talking about."

"The feelings, the urges…the goddamn memories!" Revy yelled like Rock was missing something obvious, something right in front of him. "God damn it, it's like there's ten people in my head, all fucking screaming at me all the time!"

"Screaming what?" Rock asked, his cigarette smoldering forgotten in his hand. Revy took a breath to try and steady herself. It didn't work and she lost control, reverting back to the red-headed demon Rock had first met on the sea.

"Fuck, then happy, then sad! Fight! Remember how you never had any friends that didn't fuck you over?! Anger and fear! Remember trying to explain away your black eyes to your fourth grade teacher?! Remember when the cops beat the shit outta you for no reason?! My moods, emotions keep changing; I can't get control of my head!" Revy had her hands over her face, trying to hide herself from Rock, unable to look at him and unable to stop herself. The dam had broken open and her deepest secrets spewed forth in an unrelenting torrent.

"And fuckin' Christ Rock, the memories are the worst! They don't stop; they just keep coming day and night, all yelling at me for attention. Remember when you were five and your Mom overdosed right in front of you?! Remember when you almost died alone in a prison hospital?! Remember when that fucking cop raped you?! Remember when you told your Dad what happened and he just told you to get him another beer?! Remember going to the closet and getting his gun? Putting a pillow over his face? Drawing back the hammer, the sound of the cylinder turning? Do you remember pulling the trigger and blowing your Dad's fucking brains out?!" She screamed, her voice echoing across the waves.

Rock shakily stood up, hardly believing what he was hearing. He had known Revy's past was more than than merely troubled but just how much so was shocking. Seeing her so upset, so out of character, terrified him. He reached out to hold her, keep her from flying apart.

"Revy, please stop, it's alright…" When he touched her, she jumped and recoiled like he'd burned her.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" She snapped, turning to face him. "Don't act like you're some Holier-than-Thou who's gonna make it all better. I had forgotten everything! Now I can't stop remembering, it's driving me insane! The memories keep coming back! They won't stop, won't leave me alone!" She screamed, her eyes wild with fright and rage, welling up at the corners. "And…and you know what? It's because of your meddling! You just had to poke and prod, just sticking your fucking nose into my business. Why couldn't you just leave me alone to suffer?! Wouldn't that have been easier?! But no, you couldn't do that could you? Some damn shining knight in armor you turned out to be, look what you've done to me!" She kicked at the gravel of the runway, angrily looking for something to hit.

"I'd try to help you, if you'd just…"

"Oh, help? And how are you doing that Rock? You sure have changed since coming here, I don't know you some days. You're shooting guns now, you, you've started hunting…I mean, for fuck's sake, you blew up a building with six people in it! You killed SIX…PEOPLE Rock, that's a long way from not even wanting to _touch_ a gun. What the hell did you do it for anyway?!"

"To protect all of us, to protect you." Rock explained, trying to keep calm in the face of the hurricane bearing down on him.

"Protect me?! What makes you think I need protecting?! I was doing just fine until you came along and look at me now! This is all your fault!" Revy lashed out with her fist aimed straight for Rock's face. He had suspected this attack was coming, he'd seen it before. At the last second, Rock put up his left arm and brushed her punch off course. Caught by surprise and leaning forward with follow-through momentum, Revy stumbled forward into Rock's arms.

"Let go of me!" She yelled in his ear, struggling to break free but found it impossible with her arms pinned between them. He didn't say anything and continued to hold her, tightly enough that she couldn't break free but he wasn't crushing her. "Let me go!" She said; her voice fading. "Let me go…" She said softer still and her head slumped against his chest. Her body began to quake, wracked with sobs. "God damn it Rock…what's wrong with me?!"

"Nothing's wrong with you. It's okay you know." Rock whispered. "You can stop pretending. You don't have to put on the tough front for me." Revy broke down and for the first time she could remember, she cried. Well, crying doesn't quite cover it, more like downright bawled. She untangled her arms and wrapped them around Rock and held on like she'd float away if she didn't. Twenty four years of anguish came screaming out into Rock's shirt, rivers of tears now poured down her face. A minute, five, ten, thirty minutes ticked by and Rock still didn't let go. Every scream she'd forced herself to swallow, every tear she'd dammed up and every whimper, sob, and cry that had been beaten back all tried to get out at the same time. It was something Rock felt Revy needed to do; stop holding everything inside and trying to keep up the façade of being above her emotions. As she cried into his shirt, he was determined to stand with her as long as it took.

After what felt like an eternity, it seemed like she was starting to wind down. Rock slowly lowered himself and Revy to the ground. She curled up in a ball on his lap; arms folded and pressed to her chest, head on his shoulder. She looked like a wreck of her former ferocious self, like a little girl who was terrified of the world and everything around her. Her crying out had stopped and the flow of tears had been reduced to an occasional trickle. Rock took his right hand and softly ran it across her head through her hair while he held her with his left. He could feel his heart aching, his whole chest felt crushed with pain. He knew it was because he was seeing Revy, one of the strongest people he knew, so broken up. It scared him to see her like this, but at the same time there was a sliver of happiness because she was finally letting herself open up.

"Hey, hey you." He said softly, dipping his head so he could talk to her face to face. "Are you alive in there?" She slowly nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Do you want to go back to the house?" She sniffled and slowly her head shook no. "Do you want to stay here for a while?" A nod. "Okay, we'll do that then." So they sat quietly, listening to the rhythmic pounding of the surf. They breathed deeply, pulling in the salty spray. The moon slowly sank into the sea and a pink line appeared on the horizon. Then Revy found her voice again.

"Rock…" Hoarse from yelling and crying, her voice creaked and cracked. "I'm one fucked up piece of work ain't I?"

"Well, yes. But you're my fucked up piece of work. You're not perfect, but I'm not going to give up on you or let you give up on yourself."

"You sure about that? After everything I've done; everything I just said?" She sniffed and looked up at him with a look that he didn't think her face was even capable of making; a sad and lonely look that was petrified of being abandoned yet again. "I've even tried to kill you a few times. Does that change your answer?"

"I'm still here holding you aren't I?"

"Yeah…I suppose you are." She was quiet for a moment, tucked her head back down and snuggled closer to him. "You sure are a stubborn bastard Rocky." He dipped his head again and softly kissed her on the forehead.

"Love you too Revy."

. . .

_Well I been hangin' out of town, Lordy in that low down rain…Watchin' good time Charlie, friend is drivin' me insane. _

_Up on shady Charlotte Street, Lord the green lights look red…Wish I was back home on the farm, Lordy in my feather bed. _

_Got myself a rockin' chair to see if I could lose, these thin dime, hard times, Hell on Church Street Blues…_

Country's radio played softly on the front porch as Rock walked back to the house carrying Revy. Her eyes were half closed, ringed red and puffy from crying and hazy with sleep. She didn't talk or make much movement, all the screaming and expelling twenty odd years of grief had worn her out. Country was lounging on the porch sofa with his feet up on an armrest and reading an old leather-bound book in the early morning light.

"Mornin' you two. Everythin' git worked out alright Ah take it?" He asked quietly as Rock climbed the porch steps. Rock nodded as Country opened the front door for him. "Bring her intah tha kitchen fer ah minute." Rock sat down at the table with Revy still in his arms. Country brought over a steaming mug of tea and Revy, upon smelling it, slowly sat up.

"Hey there Mizz Revy. Yah doin' okay?" Country asked, using the tone he reserved solely for the Twins when they were upset. Revy nodded and Rock said she wasn't up for much talking. "Well then can yah drink ah little of this? Got some honey in it, will help yer throat." Revy managed to get down a few sips and dropped back against Rock, half asleep.

"Here, Ah'll put her tah bed an' you help yerself to some tea." Country took Revy in his arms like she weighed as much as a pet cat and headed for the stairs. "An' don' drink outta her cup. Got's ah seasonin' of Ambien in it." Rock made himself a mug of tea and walked back to the porch. The sun was rising now, casting its rays over the city. The airfield was higher up than the city, on a ledge of the bowl that encircled Roanapur. The harbor and a few of the taller buildings were visible from the front porch in the morning light.

"It don' look half bad in this light, Roanapur that is." Country said as he joined Rock.

"No, I suppose not."

"Uh, it ain' mah business, but what was tha big hullaballoo about?"

"I think it'd be best if we let Revy decide if she wants to talk about it. The two of us are okay though, if that's any consolation." Country took a sip of his tea and nodded in agreement.

"Well put an' fair 'nough."

_Lord I wish I had some guitar strings, Old Black Diamond brand…I'd string up this old Martin box an' go join some band._

_But I guess I'll just stay right here, just pick an' sing ah while…Try to make me a little change and give you folks a smile._

"Who sang this song?" Rock asked, listening to the gently flat-picked guitar.

"Fellah by tha name of Tony Rice. Wonderful guitar picker."

"It's a good song. Strange though, hearing a song like it on the radio in this town."

"Well it is Sunday Rock, tha Lord's Day. Sometimes things jest work out huh?"

"That is true. What're you reading?" Rock glanced down at the old book in Country's hand.

"Christmas Carol, got's ah good redemption theme to it so far, least that's what Ah'm pickin' up. Looks promisin'. Wanna borrow it when Ah'm done?"

"Sure, redemption themes sound really good to me right now."

_And I got myself a rockin' chair, just to see I could lose, these thin dime, hard time, Hell on Church Street Blues…_

. . .

"So what's the occasion?" Chang asked as he and Balalaika sat down on the bench at the end of the dock. "When you called, I almost thought for just a moment you had finally broken and were asking me to dinner."

"Huh. In your dreams." Balalaika lit a cigar and decided she'd better get to business before Chang dove any further into his delusions of grandeur. "Strictly business today Chang-baby. It's about Lin, and a few other things too."

"Oh, do we have to talk about him? He's _such_ a pain in the ass." Chang smiled at Balalaika from behind his sunglasses. "What's he done now?"

"He left me a message, threatening to go to the Americans if we don't deliver Lagoon Company on a silver platter."

"Oh he is, is he? How did I miss that memo?" Chang asked and made a mental note to visit the Ripoff Church later. "What makes Lin so confident the Americans will give two shits about him?"

"I don't know and that's what is troubling me. He must know something we don't know about." Balalaika theorized and puffed thoughtfully on her cigar, lost in thought.

"Or he…_has_…something we don't know about." Chang suggested and Balalaika's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What do you know that I don't? You aren't holding out on me, are you?"

"It's obvious isn't it? That lab the Twins escaped from."

"Of course, that would explain the Extra Order troops. Someone has an interest in that lab, someone besides Lin and in a high place. There are quite a few Americans on E.O.'s board of directors, aren't there?"

"At least half the board of E.O. is from the States. A lot of them have big names and even bigger desks in Washington D.C. If Lin or his contact talks to the right people, we could have _another_ NSA team showing up."

"Good! I missed my chance for a fight last time. I'd welcome them with a hail of bullets."

"No, you wouldn't. This city almost self-destructed last time and is still fragile. That was when they were targeting someone else, not us. We cannot fight the entire U.S. Government. And besides, this town may be a hell-hole, but it's our hell-hole and I prefer not seeing it overrun with American agents."

"So what do you want me to do then? Sit on my hands?"

"I think it would be in our mutual interest to collaborate in taking down Mr. Lin. We do that, divide his territory, E.O. ceases to be an issue, no American NSA teams and we even get that lab as the bow on top."

"Oh, it's 'We' now? Fufu, isn't it ironic, hearing you say that at this very dock? You do remember this place don't you?"

"Yeah, it's where we shot it out in '93. What about it?"

"I just find it interesting how we were once trying to kill each other and now we're talking about working together…in the same spot."

"Must be a sign of the times." Chang dropped his cigarette to the dock and stamped it out. "So what do you say? Wanna go kill some Rascals with me? It won't be quite the war you wanted but it'll be better than nothing. Tell you what, I'll even be a gentleman and let ladies go first." Balalaika tapped a fingernail on her armrest and smiled at Chang.

"Why not? I have been wanting a war for a while, even if it is against third-rate thugs. The men have been growing restless. But how will we decide who gets the lab? Are you suggesting we share it?"

"I can hardly believe I'm saying this, but that's exactly what I'm suggesting. There isn't a way we can just cut it in half like a cake. Our truce has been working well so far despite everything that's happened and I don't want that to end. You know, since it's been so much fun." He grinned at Balalaika who glared at him, her suspicions returning.

"You'll pardon me if I'm skeptical of course."

"I don't blame you. But it's the only option I see that we get our problems taken care of, get the lab and don't rip each other apart."

"So a joint venture then?"

"Whatever you want to call it. If you want some time to think it over that's fine with me." Balalaika sat in thought, smoke from her cigar curling around her head. It was tempting to take Chang at face value, his easy going personality, and charming smile didn't make it any easier. His idea was eating at her though. Fighting Lin and Extra Order wouldn't be that much of a challenge, a field exercise for her men. But fighting Chang would be a battle and a costly one indeed. The truce had worked out so far, that was true. There didn't seem to be anything for her to lose Balalaika thought, trying to read Chang with his glasses on.

"Alright."

"Alright what?"

"Alright, I'll try your…joint venture."

"Okay, glad to hear that!" Chang and Balalaika both stood up from the bench. "So I think the next thing we need to do is get everything coordinated so we aren't fumbling around."

"That's all well and good, but I do have a question. What are you thinking of doing with a lab that can bring people back to life?"

"Isn't that obvious? Charge admittance to the highest bidders, figure out how to replicate it and install one in every major city around the world."

"Make money, sell it to old billionaires. Why am I not surprised?"

"Well what would you do? Build an army worthy of Mordor?"

"What?" Balalaika asked; her face filled with confusion at Chang's reference. "Mordor? What in the hell are you talking about?"

"Never, nevermind." Chang waved off another one of his attempts at humor. "Just a joke. Anyway, I'll call you in a few days so we can kick things off?"

"I think that'd be best…if you live that long!" Balalaika reached into her coat and Chang went for the twin holsters on the back side of his belt. She had gotten the drop on him and Balalaika laughed as she yelled:

"BANG! Got you!" Her finger and thumb were held in the shape of a gun and pointed at Chang's chest. His hands were in the same shape, caught pointed at the dock by his hips, still on their way up to ready.

"You got lucky today Fry-Face." Chang admitted, pretending to holster his guns by tucking his hands into his empty holsters. "I'll have to work on that so I can get you next time."

"In your dreams Chang-baby." Balalaika teased as they walked back to their cars where Boris and Biu were waiting. "I'll call tomorrow to let you know what I have at my disposal for our little venture. Tah-tah!" She turned to Boris who handed her back her Stechkin and climbed into the car. At the same time, Chang took back his AMT Hardballers from Biu and reholstered them.

"It was a good idea of yours, to have us take your guns off you." Biu said as he started up the car. "But it looked like she got the jump on you this time Boss." Chang stared out the back window and watched the grey Mercedes pull away.

"Ha! In her dreams. I let her win."

. . .

"Ohhhhh…it ain' gonna rain no more, no more…Ain' gonna rain no more…" I sang as Rock, Revy an' I cruised through rush hour traffic. It seemed everyone an' their brother was headin' off somewhere but at least all tha vehicles kept us outta sight 'n' outta mind of our target. "How in tha heck can Ah wash mah neck if it ain' gonnna rain no more?!"

"Just how many of these songs do you have Bumpkin?" Revy asked, lookin' like she was ready to die from boredom. She'd been in ah strange mood since she an' Rock had their spat or whatever it was tha other day. She was ah lot calmer now, didn' fuss as much an' Ah thought she followed Rock around before, now she was positively glued to tha man. Tha one interesting thing was that it looked like, Ah dunno, some cloud had passed over, no, tha's not quite right. Like, she'd finally dropped ah load of bricks she'd been haulin' everywhere an' was startin' to lighten up. She still hadn't told tha rest of us what they'd talked about, but then again, wadn't any of mah business. 'Long as she behaved an' tha two of 'em was happy an' gittin' along, that was good 'nough fer me.

"Oh, ah buncha them little diddies. Dad used tah sing 'em all tha time while we was workin' 'round tha house an' outside. This 'nes ah goodun. Ohhhh…Rich Man rides ah limousine, Poor Man rides tha train…" Our target appeared from behind an SUV an' made ah lane change. "Hobo walks tha railroad tracks but he gits there jest tha same."

"That's him, matches your description perfectly." Rock checked my notepad on his lap. "BMW, blue-grey paint, dent on the right rear fender, plate is Alpha Charlie Tango, Zero Seven-Niner." Rock had picked out The Doctor's car an' we changed lanes to keep pace. The Doctor drove like ah man on ah mission, suicide mission that is. He was weavin' in an' outta traffic, burstin' speed an' even had his wheels up on tha sidewalk twice. We was able to keep on him an' we finally broke outta heavy traffic. His route straightened out an' took us dead center on Mr. Lin's territory. He pulled off into an empty lot next to an old, run-down, TV repair shop.

"Peanut sittin' on tha railroad track, heart was all ah flutter…" Ah watched as The Doctor got outta his car an' nervously glanced around. "Round tha bend came ah choo-choo train…" We slowly rolled past tha shop like we were out seein' tha sights, bunch tourists in an old Ford, nothin' tah see here Doc. "An' now it's peanut butter!" The Doctor opened tha front door of tha shop an' quickly disappeared inside. Gotcha. Yer ah peanut now Doc an' we're ah big ole train.

. . .

Country stopped the truck across and about fifty yards down the street from the TV shop. He shut down the engine and stared at the store in the mirror.

"What're you thinkin' Bumpkin?" Revy asked as she checked her Beretta's magazines.

"Oh, 'bout tha price of rice in China."

"And how is the price of rice in China these days?" Rock asked.

"Don' know ah damn thing 'bout it. Never been tah China. Maybe we can ask tha Doc? He's sure tah be an educated, cultured an' worldly man." Country asked as he leaned out the window to scan the shop and glance up and down the street.

"You've got that look Country." Rock said as the three of them hopped out of the truck.

"What look?" Country asked innocently as he started across the street.

"That look you get when you're about to get into something, about to cause trouble." Rock pointed to Revy. "She gets the exact same look!"

"Pffft! No I don't!" Revy laughed and rolled her eyes at Rock. "You should get into more trouble now and then, it makes for good stories. No good story ever started off with: So there I was, sitting in my living room watching Oprah…"

"An' 'sides Rock…" Country drawled as he checked the Patrolman's cylinder, spun it back in place and holstered it. "We's jest gonna talk to him. Find out what he's willin' tah tell us."

"At least let me knock first and see how that goes." Rock walked up to the front door and rapped his knuckles on wood. The sounds echoed through the empty showroom with no response. Country and Revy tried to peer through the front windows but couldn't see anything through the grime encrusted glass.

"Try 'er again Rock." He knocked again and still no reply from inside.

"Maybe we should just come back later? He's probably busy."

"Ain' ah gonna happen. Tha man claims he works fer Lin an' Extra Order too." Country knelt in front of the door and examined the lock. "That 'n' he was askin' 'bout tha Twins. This here's ah big ole fish on mah line an' Ah ain' gonna let him go." Country glanced up and down the street one more time and found it completely empty. "Okay Thing One an' Thing Two, keep watch wouldja?"

Country reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small gun like object, about the size of his palm. Instead of a barrel there was a small sliver of metal two inches long that tapered into a needle sized tip. Country slid a small panel off the butt of the gun's grip and shook out three small allen wrenches.

"What is that? A lock-pick gun or something?" Rock asked as curiousity pulled his gaze.

"Too right it is. Had tah git one when Hansel accidentally locked us outta tha house tha other week. Works like ah charm if tha lock ain' too complicated an' yer willin' tah make ah little noise." Country selected a wrench and inserted the short end into the lock. Next went in the metal sliver of the lock gun. A series of clicks and clacks began to emanate from the gun as Country quickly pumped the trigger.

"It's real simple, how this thing works. It jest gits in there an' wriggles 'round fer ah minute, tryin' tah hit all tha locks buttons jeesssst right an' if yah fuck with it right…" _Click! _"Open…sesame." Country rotated the allen wrench and unlocked the door. He turned the knob and the door swung open.

The security system, bought by The Doctor and paid for by The Benefactor, was truly unique. The key The Doctor carried contained a small RFID chip. The chip would deactivate the locks and motion sensors when the front door was unlocked. Then The Doctor would have sixty seconds to correctly enter the seven digit pin into the wall panel across the room. That deactivated the rest of the defenses: the shotgun traps, the alarms, panic button, among other devious and nasty things. However, the cameras recorded 24/7.

. . .

"Hallllooo…" I said as we walked inside the shop. 'Cept for an oak coffee table an' a pair of armchairs, the shop floor was empty.

"Hey Country." Revy nodded at the double doors, a sliver of blue light shining from underneath. "This looks promising." There was ah round window on each door but they were shuttered on tha other side. I leaned on tha door, bolted shut from tha feel of it; didn' even move. Well then Ah'll jest hafta try Rock's method an' knock.

. . .

The Doctor was sitting at his desk and having lunch. Tuna salad on wheat, a bag of baby carrots, sliced bell peppers and celery sticks and a mug of Earl Gray to wash it all down. Things were finally beginning to feel normal again for The Doctor, especially since he'd finally cleaned up the last of the bloodstains. The previous Intern's blood had even gotten on the ceiling and was very hard to get rid of. The Benefactor was a source of confusion for The Doctor. He had been given a liberal artistic license for this project and a very generous salary and budget. But at the same time, The Benefactor was a nightmare some days, terrifying if a deadline wasn't met, an experiment failed or two subjects were to escape. This made The Doctor wonder if he was working for the right person, perhaps he should consider finding employment elsewhere…_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

'What could that be?' The Doctor wondered, magazine in hand and celery stick in mid-bite. 'It sounded like…it was _inside_ the shop. That shouldn't be possible though, I made sure to lock the door.' _Tap! Tap! Tap!_ It was definitely inside the shop, just outside the double door. He opened his desk drawer and took out his Smith and Wesson Model 10. The Benefactor had insisted The Doctor keep a gun but he'd only shot it once when he'd bought it. He put it back into the drawer, knowing full well he couldn't fool himself into thinking he would ever shoot the gun again. The Doctor just wasn't a man of violence.

He walked quietly to the doors and checked the security camera feeds on the wall. There were three of them. One in a button-up shirt and tie, nervously fidgeting by the front door, one smoking in _his_ chair with her filthy combat boots getting dirt on the coffee table and one with his back to the camera, tapping on the door. The doors were solid steel and the windows one inch bullet-proof plexiglass so The Doctor felt safe enough to slowly slide back one of the panels.

"Hi! Fancy seein' you here Agent Smith!" A cheery voice boomed from the other side of the door. The grinning face of the man from the airfield filled the window and beamed at him. The Doctor almost fell over in surprise and had to lean on the door to steady himself. "How yah doin' in there?"

"I…I'm fine thank you. How are you…wait a minute! How did you get in here?!"

"Through tha front door like any civilized human bein'. Ah think yer receptionist is out though. Ah ain' been asked how Ah'm doin', offered coffee or nothin'."

"Well you have my attention, what do you want?" The Doctor wondered how long the three had been in the storefront. They only had sixty seconds when the perimeter was breached and there was no override on The Doctor's side of the door.

"You was askin' 'bout Twins, escaped from some facility…this it?"

"Yes, uh, no! But it still is government property and you're trespassing! So, please just go away, thank you and good day!" The Doctor closed the panel on the window, hoping the man and his friends would leave. _Tap! Tap! Tap! _The man certainly was tenacious. The Doctor slid back the panel as as he did, the sixty seconds ran out.

"Well you've gone and done it now." The Doctor said; he hated seeing people suffer needlessly. An alarm began to blare and the front door slammed shut. Four steel bolts inside it locked into the frame and secured it in place. An automatic phone line dialed out to the police and also to the Extra Order base in town.

"Tha hell's goin' on?!" The man yelled in surprise as the storefront locked down.

"I'm really sorry, but the police are on their way. I can't shut down the system, I'm very sorry."

. . .

"Hey! Tha cops are comin'!" Ah yelled over tha alarm blaring. Then ah panel on tha ceilin' dropped down, revealin' ah short-barreled, side-by-side shotgun trap. "Move yer ass Rock!" Ah kicked him away from me an' used him tah push myself back. _Bah-WHOOOM! Bah-WHOOOM!_ Two loads of 00 buckshot fired an' tha armchair Revy'd been loungin' in disintegrated.

"Revy! Six o'clock high!" Rock warned an' she whirled as tha secon' shotgun trap dropped. She fired twice an' hit tha mounts fer tah trap. Tha shotgun swung farther than designed an fired its two shells straight down into tha floor.

"Oh shit that's an E.O. truck!" Revy glanced out the window an' saw an olive drab deuce-and-a-half rumblin' up tha street. "Who in the fuck invited them?!"

"We'll worry 'bout them later!" Ah drew mah gun an' leveled it at the front window. "Let's jest worry 'bout gittin' outta this death trap first!"Ah fired two shots intah tha window an' it didn' break. Revy fired ah few more rounds at tha glass. It jest spider-webbed an stubbornly refused to break.

"Aw shit, it's plexiglass!" Revy yelled, kicking at tha window an' nearly fell over when it didn' yield. "Any ideas?"

"One! Rock, coffee table!" Rock an' Ah hefted tha table, it must've weighed two hundred pounds. Revy fired at tha glass again an' then Rock an' Ah began smashin' our way out. After ah few swings we'd worked ah hole big enough to climb through. On tha street we saw tha E.O. truck on our right an' tha cops on our left. Tha truck was jest pullin' up on scene, 'bout forty yards away. Chief Watsup was there too, tappin' his baton on his shoulder as was his habit… an' he didn' look too happy.

"Well, well, Revy. How did I know? Wherever trouble goes, you're never far behind." He said with ah tone that sounded like he'd had tha same conversation with her ah hundred times. "Oh and Country too, why am I not surprised? Do you know how many speeding tickets you haven't paid? That truck of yours isn't a stock car and those speed limit signs aren't suggestions. Rock too, really kiddo`?" He asked as Rock stepped out through tha front window. 'Fore Watsup could git in his next line, tha E.O. troops opened up on us. A round streaked past us an' shattered tha dome light on tha roof of Watsup's car. We started runnin' for mah truck, usin' tha police cars fer cover.

"Don't think the gets you off the hook!" Watsup yelled as he hid behind his car. "Your payments have run out; Lagoon is fair game for us cops now!"

"Blow it out your ass Chief and see if we give a fuck!"Revy swung herself into tha truck bed, opened tha toolbox an' started rootin' around inside it. "Get us the hell outta here Country!" She yelled an' fired off ah burst from tha Tommy gun she'd pulled from tha toolbox. Tha E.O. troops backed off long enough fer me tah git tha truck started up an' rollin' fer home as fast as Ah could go. Tha cops didn' bother chasin' us, preoccupied with tha E.O. troops an' tha hole we'd made in tha window. Ah wadn' too pleased with how things had turned out but there was ah silver linin'. At least now we knew where tha lab was, an' that was somethin'.

. . .

* * *

I liked doing this chapter, even though there weren't any huge fight scenes. The section with Rock and Revy out on the runway was intense to write. It helped a bit that I was in a bit of a bad mood, really helps writing a character that is upset. Also, any comment on Country and Sawyer? She's one of my favorite characters, one because she's one badass chick, but also that we don't know any of her back-story. I don't know about you, but one of my favorite things is a blank canvas to work with. Thank you again for reading and please let me know how I did!


	13. Chapter 13

Oh battle scene, battle scene, oh battle, battle, battle scene...SNAP!...buh-dum-dum-dum! Okay, that was a bad joke. Seriously though, things are going down in Roanapur! There will be police cars, a joint Chinese and Russian attack, a CIA agent that looks like a nun, a red-head with a machine gun for cryin' out loud! Enjoy!

* * *

. . .

"Doctor…doctor will you…damn it Doc! Will you quit blubbering for one minute so I can understand what the hell you're saying?!" The Benefactor was half in bed and fully awake despite the difference in time zones.

"There were three of them! They were trying to talk their way inside the lab; they even got through the front door!"

"Who?! Who were they? Russians? Chinese Triads? Girl Scouts?"

"None of those, a group of locals. The one I spoke to is from the airfield here." The word 'airfield' stirred something in The Benefactor's mind. Lin had mentioned something about an airfield before, a base of operations of sorts for something…what was it?

"Do you have the camera feed files?"

"Of course, it records 24/7 and backs up automatically."

"Send me the footage from today. Maybe it's someone I'll recognize."

"Okay, I'll send you the files in a minute." The Doctor hung up and The Benefactor groaned as he hauled himself out of bed. He leaned heavily on his cane; the stress of recent events was wreaking havoc with his arthritis. He reached his desk and booted up his computer, drumming gnarled fingers impatiently on the mouse. The camera feed loaded up and started playing; three characters were on the lab's camera.

"No one I know…maybe Lin will know one of them." The Benefactor attached the file to an email with instructions to watch it, try to identify anyone on the video and to call him immediately. One minute later his phone rang.

"Boss. This is Lin."

"And?"

"I know all three those fuckers. They from Lagoon Company. One with tie is negotiator and bookkeeper. Woman is company gunslinger."

"And the tall one with the beard?"

"I hate him most. He one who punch me at bar, he one who shoot up house with plane!"

"So they're locals then. Are these the people who've been handing you your ass?"

"You think you do better old man? Lagoon Company very big name in Roanapur, very skilled."

"Riiiiight. I'll…I'll call you back." The Benefactor hung up on Lin and leaned back in his chair, tugging at his hair in anguish. Everything was going to shit; it was like seeing a train wreck in slow motion. First the kids escape from the they slip through his fingers again. Because of that failure, Silas, his best agent and his entire squad, were all dead and buried behind the Church on the hill in Roanapur. Lin of course had picked up a local problem. Lin had said he shouldn't have any trouble handling some courier company. Now that problem was giving Lin the run-around and seemed to be poking its nose into HIS lab. Well, technically it was the United States Government's lab. It was paid for through the infamous "Black Budget" but The Benefactor was determined to be first in line to use it, selfish as that may be. Everything considered though, The Benefactor had to concede it looked like he was out of options. If he were a younger man he would hop the ocean and take care of business himself. Then again, "Never get your hands dirty if you don't have to." He said aloud to himself. It was his last resort but desperate times and all that. He was confident they would pick up, they always did. He lifted the phone and dialed the secure line.

"Hello Senator." The C.I.A. operative manning the Roanapur post said. "I was wondering when you were going to call." The Benefactor didn't know anything about the agent except they used a voice scrambler.

"Well it's been a while, figured I'd drop a line."

"Spare me the pleasantries Senator. You never call this number unless you want something."

"Alright, alright, you got me. I do have a little favor to ask…"

. . .

"Whew! Tha was too close!" Country leaned his head on the steering wheel as they sat in the driveway next to the old commander's house at the airfield.

"No kidding." Revy agreed from the truck bed, spent 0.45 shells scraping on the metal as she sat down and stuck her legs out. "Fuckin' Watsup and his bribes. Hey Dutch!" Lagoon's captain exited his quarters, rubbing his head as he did when he was upset. "I thought we had an understanding with the cops in this dump?"

"We did. But, ever since Lin started hatin' on us and we blew up his offices, that has changed. I actually just got off the phone with Watsup." Dutch leaned against the truck, drawing circles with his boot in the dirt. "He said the rate for us has gone up…double."

"Double?!" Revy exploded, pounding her fist on the toolbox. "He knows fully damn well we can't fuckin' pay that, who the hell does he think he is?!"

"He said that today's escapade isn't something he can just sweep under the rug. Extra Order was involved and he said you broke into a TV repair shop?"

"TV repair shop mah ass. It was that place Hansel an' Gretel got worked on. Tha Doctor that came 'round here tha other day was workin' there."

"So you did find it?" Dutch asked; his interest piqued. "I don't know about it though, something isn't right. Lin's awfully protective of that lab…Extra Order got involved in a hurry and in a big way. Something is at work here that we're missing." Silence fell over the truck as everyone mulled over their predicament.

"I wonder how much we could charge…" Rock interrupted the quiet.

"Charge fer what? Ah wrestlin' tournament 'tween Revy, Shenhua an' Eda? Ow!" Revy reached around through the window and smacked Country upside the head.

"No, if we had that lab. We could sell tickets, auction if off to the highest bidder…market it to the world and make ourselves independently wealthy…bringing people back to life…" Rock said, his eyes filling with a scheming look.

"That sounds like an interesting idea." Dutch agreed, thoughtfully stroking his goatee.

"You had me at independently wealthy." Revy said as her eyes filled with dollar signs.

"That an' it's linked to Lin an' Extra Order somehow. We might figger out how an' maybe take care of those problems while we're at it. But, there is one, nah, two additional issues…"

"Hotel Moscow and The Triad." Dutch said. "They've been looking for it too, I guarantee it. Sorry to say it, but I'm sure your stunt today tipped them off as to where it is." Country groaned and dropped his face back to the steering wheel.

"An' tha's jest what we don' need, Chang an' Mizz Balalaika buttin' in." He sat up, opened his door and hopped out of the truck. "Well, if we're gonna go after tha lab then we'd best be gittin' ah move on ricky-tick. Maybe Benny's got some ideas on how tah deal with that security system." He stopped and turned around, looking back at Rock, Revy and Dutch, still at the truck.

"W'all c'mon!" Country slapped the watch on his left wrist impatiently. "Time's ah wastin', let's move! Rock, Revy. Let's start by rememberin' everythang we can 'bout that lab..."

. . .

"Absolutely, positively, not a snowball's chance in hell." Eda said firmly for what felt like the umpteenth time. "There is no way you will convince me to assist you in this…stupidity."

"And why not?!" The Benefactor demanded on the other end. "Isn't it your _job_, C.I.A, hunting down bad guys?"

"Bad guys are relative. One man's sworn enemy is another man's bosom buddy."

"So you're not going to help me, at all? You do know what project I have in your city…right?"

"Of course I know. It is MY city after all. I also know I recommended against bringing that lab here because I knew what kind of a shit-storm it would cause. I hate to say 'I told you so' but…"

"But nothing! For fuck's sake agent, I'm not asking you to burn down Roanapur! All I want is your help taking down one little courier company that's become a thorn in my side."

"And I'm telling you that's not going to happen. The C.I.A.'s stance in Roanapur is keeping things level, stable."

"Well it doesn't look to damn stable to me! Look, what difference will it make? What difference will one little courier company make?"

"That 'little courier company' you keep going on about is what keeps this city functioning. They work for anybody and everybody, making sure the wheels stay greased. Without them, organizations fall apart and Roanapur will find itself drowning in total anarchy."

"You know what? Fine, I can see I'm getting nowhere with you. I think I'll just call Langley and see what your boss has to say."

"Go ahead, be my guest. Do you want his extension? It's 814."

"You've got an awful lot of nerve for a damn field agent."

"No, you've got a lot of nerve for an out-of-touch old man who should have been put out to pasture twenty years ago instead of sitting in the Senate Chambers." Eda paused to let The Benefactor fume for a moment. "And speaking of the Senate...I hear tell that there is a crusade going around. A budget oversight committee is looking into the Black Budget and its list of projects. Something about cracking down on projects that are unethical, immoral or just plain illegal. They're especially interested if they have been shipped overseas to more…lenient regions; ones that'll turn a blind eye to projects of this nature. Your name has cropped up a few times already. I'd say it's only a matter of time before they hand you a subpoena."

"You arrogant prick! I'll have you burned for this! Do you think you can just threaten me like that and get away with it?!"

"Hey, hey now! I never threatened anything; you came up with that all on your own. Now, unless you have anything else to discuss, this call is over. Good luck with the Oversight Committee. I hope you do a better job of convincing them than you did me." _Click!_ Eda pressed the end button before The Benefactor could retaliate. She tossed the phone onto the couch and glanced out the Church window.

The nighttime lights were starting to come on and the city already sparkled. Eda pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up, leaning against the window sill as she mulled over what to do. Obviously the lab needed to be dealt with and quickly. Eda knew that if she didn't get involved that the rest of the city would and not in a good way. Hotel Moscow would of course move immediately on their own if needed, they couldn't resist an asset like that. And that's just how Balalaika would see it too, another military objective to capture. Then there was The Triad…another pull and another puff of smoke out the window. Chang had talked to Eda the other day in one of their phone calls about his meeting with Balalaika. Eda had approved of his plan but didn't feel comfortable letting Chang or Balalaika have control over such a place. She had only approved because it would have sounded suspicious otherwise. It was a delicate balance, making sure that all the going on's in the city stayed smooth. She rested her head on the window frame and let her eyes rest for a moment. She had been doing reconnaissance of her own, scouting around since Chang had started talking about the lab. Because of that, she had slept only six hours in three days. This station, this job was wearing on her. It was nothing new though, agents like her burned out everyday. They got old, got tired, took too many of the issued pills, went paranoid, stayed at their post for so long they took on their station's characteristics and went nuts or worse.

'No time to worry about that now though, there's work to be done and maybe even some money to be made.' She though, snuffing out the cigarette on the sill and flicking it out the window. She walked over to the cupboard across the room and got out a stack of poster board and a black marker. She laid out the first poster board on the table and uncapped the marker. With the cap clenched in her teeth, Eda began to write in big block letters:

**ESCAPE FROM DEATH! THIS WAY!**

. . .

"Private Sokolov, Corporal Rurik, report."

"We are in position Capitan. Ready to execute on your order."

"Go." Private Sokolov steadied his grip on his AS VAL, sighting up the two E.O. troopers across the way on the corner. They were on the edge of the street that separated Hotel Moscow and Roanapur Rascal territory. Private Sokolov made his final adjustments to the AS VAL's scope and fired. _Pffft! Pffft!...Pffft! Pffft!_ The two E.O. troopers dropped silently to the sidewalk.

"Capitan, first barrier is clear. We are relocating." Corporal Rurik said as Private Sokolov packed up his rifle.

"Excellent, we will proceed on your report. Chang, how are things on your end?"

"Good so far, first checkpoint is down. They've really fortified this section of the city. We just cleared a barricade with a guard house, barbed wire, a gate, sandbag wall, the works."

"Well we have six miles of territory to cross so let's not waste time." She hung up the radio mike and nodded to the jeep's driver. He started up the engine and the machine gunner next to Balalaika readied his mounted DsHK. Twenty jeeps and trucks all in a line, loaded with soldiers and their AK-74M and AK-74U rifles, followed suit.

Private Sokolov and Corporal Rurik reached their over-watch position five hundred yards from the lab. The area was swarming with E.O. troops and Rascal soldiers. They were blocking off side roads and alleys, trying to funnel any attack away from the lab.

"Capitan, reconnaissance report. Enemy foot mobiles with light machine guns, stand-alone grenade launchers and RPG's in target area." Corporal Rurik called on the radio.

"Strength?" Balalaika asked as her convoy got underway.

"Easily one hundred plus. Stealth is not going to be easy."

"Then we'll have to do things the dirty way. All squad commanders, you are authorized to engage at will. Chang."

"Yes?"

"There are more of them than we originally thought. I'm going loud on my end."

"Then we'll do the same, see you at the rendezvous point." The plan was to drive two convoys, one Chinese and one Russian, through six miles of Rascal territory. This would split the defenders and force them to fight on two fronts. Once the two groups had made it through three miles of fortified city, they would link up on the main boulevard and proceed to the lab. Their combined numbers then would overwhelm any defenders in the vicinity of their target. In theory anyway.

The first sounds of attack came on Chang's side of the city. The lead jeep encountered another checkpoint and the jeep's PKM machine gunner opened fire. The burst quickly mowed down the three E.O. troopers manning the guard post and echoed loudly across town. The other E.O. and Rascal soldiers ignored it at first but a second, longer burst put them on alert.

As the convoy rolled through town, the ferocity of resistance began to increase. Chang's convoy rounded a corner, slowing to make the turn. An RPG fired from the third story of an apartment building, streaking down into the center of the convoy. Two jeeps were knocked off the road by the blast, rolling over and one burst into flames from the shrapnel ripping through its fuel tank. The soldier who'd fired the RPG didn't get out of the line of sight in time and his body was shredded by the volley of returning fire. Once the burning jeep was pushed off the road, Chang and his soldiers got back underway.

On Balalaika's end, a Rascal soldier appeared from an alleyway and fired a burst from his AK-47, killing one of the truck drivers. As the driver's body slumped over, the truck clipped a telephone pole, hopped the sidewalk and rolled over. The dizzy men stumbled out the back and waved the rest of the convoy on. They knew how critical it was for everyone else to keep moving and would catch up the best they could. Balalaika wished she could have stopped and picked up the ten soldiers but knew she couldn't afford to slow down.

"Return fire with any means necessary!" Balalaika ordered as she lost another jeep to an RPG. Soldiers equipped with grenade launchers, stand-alone, rocket propelled or under-slung, began blasting occupied buildings as the convoy passed. Entire sections of walls and building fronts disappeared in flashes of fire and dust. The 40mm launchers sounded like popping champagne corks, the explosions drowned out the sound of the machine gunners as they shot their way through another checkpoint. The intensity of incoming fire slackened dramatically and the convoy got back up to speed. So far, Russian and Chinese forces had succeeded in blazing a fiery mile and a half trail and were quickly approaching their link-up point.

. . .

"We're stopped. Why are we stopped?" Balalaika asked Chang as her convoy pulled up around the corner from the main road they were supposed to drive down. Three of Chang's lead vehicles were burning down the street, shredded by hidden machine guns with perfect coverage of the road.

"My lead vehicles made the turn and got blown away." Chang explained from behind his car where he'd taken cover. "They have blocked off most of the other streets and alleys, this is the fastest way in without going all the way around."

"If we can get the buildings clear, it looks like we should be able to move forward with little problem." Balalaika said as she surveyed the machine gun swept street through her binoculars.

"We can't get into any of the buildings though, all the doors are covered by the guns."

"Haha! Silly Chang, if there aren't any doors available, you make them!" She signaled to her soldiers and the squad leader nearest her nodded and barked out orders. A Private with an under-slung grenade launcher took his mark and fired at the bare brick wall of the first building. The explosion blasted a six foot by six foot hole and a squad quickly rushed inside. A series of thunderous bursts from AK-74U's erupted from inside the building and then fell silent. The first building was clear.

"Your men can take the left side of the street and mine will stay on the right." Balalaika ordered. Chang nodded in agreement and gave his men their orders. He knew that their organizations were collaborating but when it came to full-scale combat, Balalaika was definitely the one in charge.

. . .

"Well all things considered, I think we're right on track." Balalaika was watching her men's progress through her binoculars. Flashes in the different rooms could be seen down the street, the occasional window would burst as bullets or even bodies flew though them. "And I haven't seen any sign of competition either."

"Oh, don't say that." Chang warned. "You'll go and jinx us."

"Ha! Superstitious much? Wait…what's that noise?" The fighting had lulled and for a moment all was quiet. A sound came wafting on the wind to the rear of the convoy…it sounded like a country tuned guitar, just audible over the rumble of two V-8 engines. There was a small hill behind Chang and Balalaika, about one hundred yards back and it was blocking whatever was making the noise. As the source came flying over the hill, Balalaika groaned and put her hand to her forehead in exasperation.

"Oh no…" she whispered as a dark blue '59 Ford F-250 and a bright red '69 Pontiac GTO crested the hill and barreled down on her. "Anyone…_anyone_ but Lagoon Company…."

_Blue lights flashin' in my rear-view, the Sheriff said: "Boy I shouldah known it was you. You got 14 people in the back of this truck, I've warned you twice an' now I'm writin' you up."_

_I said "Officer, what have I done?"_

_He smiled and said "Boy you're havin' too much fun!"_

Country's radio made windows rattle as he and Benny's repaired GTO zipped past Balalaika and Chang, half of the Roanapur Police Department right behind them. Revy even took the opportunity to lean out the Ford's window and wave at Balalaika as they passed.

"Grrrr ... СЕРЖАНТ ! Телефон, сейчас !" (Russian: SERGEANT! Phone, now!) Balalaika screamed and Boris quickly tossed his Capitan her cell phone. "Pick up Yaponski…pick up, pick up, pick up!"

"Hello? This is Lagoon Company." Rock answered his cell in perfect businessman form. "We're currently on a job, so if you could please try again at a later time…"

"Don't give me that secretary bullshit, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Balalaika demanded and Rock had to hold the phone away from his ear as Balalaika screeched at him.

"Well, we're uh, oh. Hang on; Country said he wants to talk to you." Now it was Balalaika's turn to have her eardrums blown, the noise from Country's radio made it sound like Daryl Singeltary was holding a concert in the truck's cab.

_Too much fun, what's that mean? It's like too much money, there's no such thing. It's like a girl too pretty, with too much class, bein' too lucky, ah car too fast. No matter what they say I've done, well I ain't never had too much fun! I'm a holy terror, ah tornado! Wind me up, turn me loose an' let me go!_

"Hey thar Mizz Balalaika! Ah saw Mister Chang back there too, why don' yah put him on speaker?" Balalaika did as Country asked and Chang chimed in.

"Country, what is Lagoon trying to pull here? You do know what you're driving into right?"

"W'all 'course we do! We're headin' fer that lab everyone an' their brother's got ah hard on fer. We's jest gonna git there first is all. Oops, hang on." There was a gunshot, followed by Country yelling "Yah damn cop! You'd better pray yah didn' scratch tha paint or Ah'm takin' it outta yer ass!" Two more shots rang out and Country came back on the phone. "Ahem. Sorry 'bout that, someone in traffic had ah little road-rage an' bumped me. Some sob story 'bout ah warrant an' unpaid speedin' tickets." Over the phone, Chang and Balalaika could hear a police officer using his car's microphone, ordering Country and Benny to pull over. "Anyhow, 'bout that lab…"

"Yeah, what makes you so confident that you're getting it?" Chang asked.

"Lemme put it to yah this way. Ah've got four fresh tires, ah tank of Sunoco racin' fuel, Ah'm in tha groove on tha lead lap an' tha rest of y'all is two laps down. That lab is as good as mine! See y'all at tha finish line, Ah'll be tha one with tha checkered flag!" Country laughed and handed Rock back the phone. Balalaika tried to talk to Rock but it sounded like he was at a live show in the front row, the way the music was blaring.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you! Call us later!" Rock yelled before he hung up. As he did, Corporal Rurik called in over the radio.

"Capitan, Corporal Rurik reporting. Enemy numbers are too heavy, our position has been compromised. We are relocating and will be unable to provide reconnaissance or over-watch of the target building for the time being."

"Черт...черт побери, черт побери, черт побери!" (Russian: Damn it…damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!) Balalaika swore and threw her phone at the wall next to her jeep. It shattered into a thousand plastic pieces and even that failed to make her feel any better.

"C'mon, let's get a move on!" Chang said, grabbing Balalaika's arm and pulling her to one of his jeeps. "If we hurry and push through this section, we might catch them yet! This isn't over!"

. . .

"Rock, drive fer ah moment wouldja?" Ah asked, grabbin' mah Winchester M97 off its rack on tha back window. "We need to git rid of our admirers. Mizz Revy?"

"Yeah Country?" She asked, Cutlasses out an' ready to go to work.

"Could you be so kind as to swing 'round to tha bed an' shoot from there?"

"Hell yeah I can! This isn't my first car chase yah know!" She clambered out tha window an' swung herself into tha bed like she'd done it ah hundred times. Ah sat on mah door on tha windowsill, twistin' 'round so Ah could bring mah shotgun to bear on tha nearest patrol cars. As Ah slid out, Rock shuffled over to mah seat an' took tha wheel. Revy waved to Benny with her guns, tellin' him to move outta tha line of fire. He shifted right an' with ah burst of speed, pulled even with us. There were two cruisers on mah side an' even more, at least seven or eight, right behind. Ah yelled to Revy Ah'd take tha two on my side an' she'd take the rest.

"An' try not to shoot tha cops! We don' need tha extra trouble!"

"I won't make any promises I can't keep!"

"Jest aim for their tires." Ah pumped ah round in, _Ker-klunk!_ an' opened fire. _Bah-Boom! Ker-klunk! Bah-Boom! _Tha first cruiser's tire exploded with tha impact of 00 buckshot. Tha left front end of tha cruiser dropped to tha pavement as tha rubber fell away and tha wheel started throwing sparks as its rim ground against tha pavement. It pulled hard left an' smashed into ah telephone pole. Ah'd hit tha tire of the other cruiser an' it hopped tha curb an' rolled onto its side. Revy's Cutlasses brought three more cruisers to ah screechin' halt, one with smoke pourin' from under tha hood. Tha rest of tha cars piled up behind them, jammin' tha road with ah sea of flashin' lights. Ah slid back into tha cab an' took back tha wheel from Rock. We were almost there, target in sight. Only problem was tha cars blockin' tha road in front of tha lab an' what seemed to be an army of E.O. an' Rascal soldiers.

"Revy, git set up! It's gonna git real heavy real quick!"

"Aye-aye Bumpkin!"

. . .

"I should have stayed at the university." The Doctor muttered to himself as he hid in the lab behind his desk. He had been watching the troops outside in the storefront but decided to retreat when a burst of rounds came through the plywood patch over the window. Now he was seriously considering a change of venue. He was fed up with The Benefactor, this vile city, the overbearing tropical heat…and to top things off; there was a small war raging on his lab's doorstep! He didn't want to leave The Apparatus; it represented three years of hard work, trial and error. But he did have all of his plans, drawings and notes. Many of them were in digital format too, on the several computers scattered around the lab. He could load them all onto some external hard drives and there were only a few paper files he would absolutely need. Rebuilding a new Apparatus would not be an issue since he'd done it once already. If only he had somewhere to run to…

. . .

"Okay, give 'em hell Revy!" She'd gotten tha M1919 set up in tha back of tha truck. We'd bolted down tha base plate on tha truck bed, then Revy secured tha pedastal mounting pole in tha plate bracket an' then tha M1919 on top of that. As we approached tha lab, jest one hundred yards away, E.O. an' Rascal soldiers appeared from behind their positions. Revy started firin' quick, ten round bursts that decimated E.O. an' Rascal ranks. Cars offered no protection from 30-06 rounds, tha bullets sailed through tha sheet metal an' fiberglass, rippin' tha soldiers limb from limb, blood spattering on tha walls an' street behind them. Spent shells dropped to tha truck bed, ringin' with ah _Plank-ah-tank-ah-lank!_ as they bounced an' rolled 'round on tha metal. Under tha barrage, tha E.O. an' Rascals retreated down tha road, leavin' tha lab unguarded. We stopped behind tha lab so our vehicles were outta tha line of fire an' off tha main road. Time was of tha essence since Balalaika an' Chang could show up at any moment. Ah hoped we could do this quickly.

. . .

"Get over to the front door and stack up!" Dutch ordered. He, Benny an' Lotton, who'd tagged along, grabbed ah few bags of tools an' goodies from tha GTO's trunk. Ah got mah Thompson from its rack on tha back window under tha M97. Rock followed an' grabbed tha M1 Carbine Ah'd given him an' bandolier of ammo off tha dash.

"Hey Revy, bring tha '19!" Ah yelled as we rounded tha corner, coverin' our own advance.

"How? The barrel's hotter than the sun!"

"Here, use this!" Ah tossed her ah home-made handle. It was ah two inch wide an' four inch long wooden dowel with ah hole drilled through tha middle. Ah'd ran some heavy-guage wire through tha hole an' then twisted loops on each end for tha M1919's barrel. It's called ah "Bale", tha Marines in World War Two thought it up so they could carry their M1919's more easily an' still shoot. Now she could do tha same, carry tha gun an' shoot from tha hip without burnin' her hand.

"Thanks Country! Just one more thing; it's my turn to pick the music!" She reached in through tha window an' twisted tha radio tuner knob to her favorite station. Ah heavy an' rough guitar sounded off while Rob Zombie growled out ah downright terrifyin' tune. With her head bangin' to tha beat, Revy went to work.

_Pah-pahpahpahPOW!...Pah-pahpahpahPOW!_

_We all go down for the sacficial moment! Crucifixion nails stain the bed of the Holy! Space-thing blues, diamond-studded, sugar-coated! Well I am Hell of miracle overloadin'!_

_Pah-pahpahpahPOW!...Pah-pahpahpahPOW!_

_Tuuurrrnnnn me on yeah, yeah! Electric Head all over! Tuuurrrnnnn me on yeah, yeah! ELECTRIC HEAD ALL OVER!_

Revy marched from tha truck t'wards tha lab, firin' at tha fleein' E.O. troops down tha road. She had tha loaded ammo belt draped across her left arm an' another two belts with ah hundred rounds a piece across her shoulders. Her left hand held tha handle for tha barrel, right hand on tha trigger an' tha receiver was pressed against her right hip for stability. Spent shells sprinkled across tha sidewalk, goin' _Ping-ah-ting-ah-ling! _as they bounced on tha concrete. Bright yeller tracer rounds arched like lightnin' down tha road so she could track her fire an' Revy jest kept rollin' forward, juggernaut that she was.

_Get inside, get in there! Evil in your eyes baby, I don't care! Get inside, get in there, see the flesh fallin' everywhere!_

_Tuuurrrnnnn me on yeah, yeah! Electric Head all over! Tuuurrrnnnn me on yeah, yeah! ELECTRIC HEAD ALL OVER!_

"That's right! Run you sons of bitches!" She yelled between bursts. "Extra Order, order of what? Order of little pussies is what it looks like!" _Pah-pahpahpahPOW!...Pah-pahpahpahPOW!_

"Well it seems Revy has things locked down on the street, to make the understatement of the century." Dutch said as he, Benny an' Ah stood in front of tha lab. He took out three buckshot shells from his shotgun an' put in three slugs. "How long will we have again?" He asked me.

"We's gonna have sixty seconds once Ah kick tha door. Ready Benny?"

"As I'll ever be. You're sure about the type of security system?" He asked, tryin' to squint through tha front window.

"It said 'Cerberus Security' right on tha keypad box housin'. Ah'm sure Ah'm sure."

"Okay then, get set Country." Dutch trained his shotgun on tha door. _BOOM! Ker-klunk! BOOM! Ker-klunk! BOOM! Ker-klunk!_ Dutch blasted tha door hinges an' tha lock. As soon as he got clear, Ah kicked tha door in an' moved inside with my Thompson at tha ready. Check right, check left an' mind those corners! Whew, clear. Dutch an' Benny followed inside while Lotton, Rock 'n' Revy stayed outside. Benny moved to tha panel an' plugged in his laptop to tha technician access port. He'd spent two days writin' ah program (An' sacrificin' ah small animal under tha full moon…probably) that should be able to figger out tha PIN.

"Most people think hacking is someone tapping furiously on their keyboard, racing the clock." He explained as tha program went to work. "Mostly it's a lot of trial and error. The real work is figuring out how to hack. Actually doing it, that's usually a quick browser search, a download and a few keystrokes away if you're lazy or a script kiddie. Then you usually just let the program run and hope you got it right." _Beep! Beep! Beep!_ Tha program finished an' Benny laughed at tha program's best guess at tha PIN.

"Should have seen that coming." He smiled as he punched tha numbers on tha keypad.

"What was it?"

"8-6-7-5-3-0-9."

"Tommy Two-Tone? Really?" Dutch asked as tha panel display changed from red to green an' tha double door bolts clanked as they slid back. "Not very original for a password." He turned an' tugged on tha door handle but it didn' budge.

"Did yer program work right Benny?" Ah asked, pullin' on tha other door.

"Are there shotgun traps going off? Yeah, it worked. You heard the bolts draw back, there must be a crossbar, latch or something on the other side we can't undo."

"W'all it's ah good thing tah hinges are on this side. Got tha thermite?"

"Right here." Benny opened one of his bags an' took out four cylindrical charges. When we'd gotten back to tha airfield tha other day, we'd jotted down everythin' we could remember 'bout tha lab. Rock had recalled tha double doors must open out 'cause tha hinges were on tha outside. So we'd spent tha afternoon cleanin' out tha lathe scrap bins an' lookin' for rust covered junk metal. When you mix equal parts of aluminium powder an' powdered iron oxide (by volume, not by weight!) congrats, you've made thermite! It's really nasty an' really fun at tha same time. It burns 'round 4,000 degrees fer what seems like forever an' ah quarter-sized pile will eat through tha hood of ah car, then tha engine block, then tha frame an' will start on tha parkin' lot underneath. We'd taken some steel conduit pipe, an inch across an' three inches long, closed on one end an' filled with thermite. At tha top was ah section of electrically ignited road flare, thermite needs ah lot of heat to ignite. We put one charge per hinge, securin' them on top of tha hinge. Benny ran wires to each an' back to an electric detonator.

"Hey, hurry up in there! They're going to counter-attack soon!" Revy yelled from outside. Ah turned to Benny as he screwed tha last wire in.

"We set Benny, all good?"

"Yep." Benny pushed a button an' this little green light flashed on. "Battery has full charge, all set."

"Burn it."

Benny pushed another button an' tha thermite ignited. Thermite don' blow up, it burns. Tha thermite started throwin' sparks an' molten metal shards everywhere with ah gritty fizzlin' an' poppin' sound. Globs of red-hot steel hinges an' thermite dripped onto tha carpet, startin' ah small fire. Dutch braved tha fumes an' stamped tha larger of the flames down so we didn' get smoked out. Once tha thermite had burned through tha hinges, Dutch an' Ah grasped tha door handles an' pulled. Tha doors crashed to tha floor, smoke from tha thermite an' fire billowing though tha storefront. Hopin' to find some cleaner air, Dutch an' Ah walked over tha double door an' inside tha lab.

. . .

"What're you doing here today anyway Lotton?" Revy asked as she, Rock and Lotton stood behind an E.O. jeep tipped over on its side. "Did you get bored or something?"

"I had to get out of the house and Dutch invited me along. Shenhua got out of the hospital the other day but still can't work. She'll be going in next week to have her stitches taken out. But in the meantime, she's been in a horrid mood and I needed a break. Sawyer and the Twins are looking after her today."

"She's really high maintenance isn't she?" Revy asked.

"You could say that I suppose. Then again, she's such a magnificent fighter, it makes sense she'd need a little more attention than others." Lotton said, looking off into space almost dreamily as he sang Shenhua's praises. Revy and Rock looked at each other as Lotton talked. Revy stuck out her tongue, crossed her eyes and pretended to puke. Rock tried not to laugh at Revy's faces in front of Lotton; she hated hearing Lotton speak so fondly of Shenhua.

"I do feel a little bad though. She's probably giving everyone such a hard time…"

. . .

"Shenhua! Food is ready!" Sawyer called from the kitchen of Shehua's apartment. Shenhua hauled herself out of bed and limped down the hall. She was walking bent at the waist, her abdomen wrapped in bandages.

"What you make?"

"Soup. The doctor said…you can't have…solid food…until they…take your stitches out."

"What if I don't? I tired of soup, want real food…" Shenhua whined.

"You'll rip them…out…and end up…like me." Sawyer warned and pointed at her neck. "With a big scar…that won't…ever go away."

"Hello Miss Shenhua!" Hansel and Gretel cheerily greeted her as they walked into the kitchen, lugging a massive book. "How are you feeling today?"

"Why you here, what you want?" Shenhua asked. Kids weren't her thing unless they were like Garcia Lovelace: loaded.

"Well since you helped save us and got hurt, we thought we'd come by and read to you while you got better." Gretel explained, beaming innocently at the annoyed assassin. Shenhua groaned internally and slumped across the kitchen, grumbling how she'd rather get shot again than listen to the Twins read even one page out of that damn book…_WHACK!_

"Aiyahh! What hell Sawyer?! That hurt!" The imprint of a wooden spoon stung on her left butt cheek and Sawyer pointed the utensil at her.

"Be…nice. They're just…trying to…say thank you." Sawyer said and brought over the soup to the table. "Now sit…and eat." Shenhua gingerly sat at her place and picked up her spoon. Hansel and Gretel plopped down next to her, opened the book and launched straight into "The Fall of The House of Usher". Shenhua sighed and wished she could have gone out hunting dumbasses with Lotton.

. . .

"Hallllloooo Doc! This ain' no game of hide 'n' seek; come out, come out wherever yah are!" Ah called as we started searchin' tha lab. Papers were scattered everywhere like snowflakes, desk drawers hung half open an' tha floor was coated in ah slippery, blue fluid. There was ah massive machine, what was left of it, in tha last room. It was in ah dozen pieces, thrown all about tha room. There were two glass tanks with holes smashed in them, wires were ripped outta their housings, circuit boards that had been snapped in half littered tha floor. It looked like The Doctor had sabotaged his own machine so no one could replicate it or even figger out how to put it back together. It was ah smart move on his part, one that Ah hated, but smart. He'd left ah few computers an' file cabinets behind so Benny, Dutch an' Ah started grabbin' what we could an' headed for tha door.

"Revy, it's ah bust Ah tell yah! Ah got-dammned bust!" Ah yelled with arms full of a computer tower. "Tha Doc's flown tha coop an' everythin's busted tah shit!"

"So we're pulling out then?" She asked as Dutch appeared with ah computer tower under each arm.

"Might as well, there's not much but stuff for the burn barrel and computers. We're going to grab what we can, maybe find something useful on the drives later."

"Okay, but hurry it up. I can see Hotel Moscow and the Triad about a mile out, they'll be on our asses soon!"

. . .

The Rascal soldiers and E.O. troops had gotten reorganized and were counter-attacking. Revy was keeping them at bay with the M1919 but had a growing problem. The end of the M1919's barrel was beginning to glow a cherry red and waves of heat were radiating from the metal.

"Rock, I have to go back to the truck. You and Lotton stay here and keep everyone covered."

"What?! Me do what? What's wrong with the gun?!" Rock asked, not wanting to use the M1 Carbine Country had tossed him earlier when they had first set out.

"If I keep shooting the barrel is gonna burn out. I have to do a barrel change, I'll be right back!" Revy picked up the M1919 and sprinted for the truck around the corner, leaving Rock and Lotton at the jeep.

"What do we do now?" Rock asked Lotton who was firing in slow intervals at the advancing troops with his pistols.

"Shoot until she gets back. You don't actually have to shoot them you know." Lotton explained, blowing out a car's windshield and showering an E.O. trooper with glass. "It's cover fire, just keep their heads down."

"What if I actually do hit someone?"

"That's called a bonus. Try aiming for windows and mirrors of the cars they're using for cover. That usually works best." Rock laid his M1 Carbine across the side of the jeep and aimed down the street. An E.O. trooper, identifiable by his green boonie hat and ballistic vest, peeked out from behind a red sedan.

"Well, I'm not shooting him; just _at_ him…I guess I can do that." Rock thought and fired. _Ka-PING!_ The little M1 Carbine didn't recoil as much as Country's M14, was much lighter and very easy for Rock to operate. The 0.30 caliber bullet hit the sedan's windshield six inches from the trooper's face. The man ducked back down and swore as he started picking glass shards from his right cheek.

"Did you see that?! I got him to back down!" Rock jabbered excitedly, happy to feel like he was contributing instead of just hiding out of the line of fire as he usually did.

"Don't get too worked up, we're not done yet." Lotton cautioned. Rock fired a few more rounds and then spotted an E.O. trooper slide behind a car about 75 yards away. He aimed at the hood of the car and fired. As he did, the trooper stood up. The round skipped off the hood of the car and hit the man square in the chest. He stumbled backwards a few steps and fell out of sight.

Rock froze. He'd just shot someone, a living, breathing human being. He expected to feel strange; maybe a knot would form in his stomach but all he felt was his pulse pounding in his head, the rapid breathing in his chest and the tingle on his skin from the adrenaline surging through him. Where was the immense guilt, the horrid revulsion he was supposed to feel that movies always showed? He stood numbly, watching as the trooper staggered to his feet, a chunk of his ballistic vest blown off.

'Well that wasn't so bad, shooting someone.' Rock thought. 'Wait, what's he doing? Oh, that's a grenade launcher…oh, that's not good.' The man had an M203 launcher slung underneath his M16 and now was aiming it at the jeep Rock and Lotton were using for cover. Rock did the math quickly. He had seen the same problem before in the nose turret of the B-24 and knew the answer. It was a shoot or be shot scenario where only he and he alone could bail himself out; Revy was still not back from the truck and Lotton couldn't hit the man at this range with his pistols. Rock rested the forend of the carbine across the jeep, leaned into it, got a good cheek weld on the stock and lined up the sights. He did his breathing just as Country had taught him on the deck of the _Black Lagoon_…in…hold…out. Squeeze the trigger. _Ka-PING!_

The little 0.30 caliber FMJ, round-nosed bullet left the M1 Carbine and zipped the 75 yards down the street to its target. It struck the E.O. trooper just above the top of his vest in his right collarbone. As the bullet tunneled and tumbled through the man's flesh, the hydro-static shock ruptured the artery running from his neck to his arm. There was an initial burst and then stream of blood from the hole, splashing across the hood of the car in front of him. The man's body went limp and his legs crumpled beneath him. He slumped to the street, blood still pouring from both ends of the hole through him, dead before he hit the ground.

"Good shot Rock!" Country congratulated, carrying a filing cabinet to his truck. "We're all set, time to beat feet outta here!" Revy reappeared with the M1919 and began firing again. The soldiers began to flee, giving up the ground they had regained under the swarm of bullets. Rock and Lotton turned and ran for the vehicles, Revy covering their withdrawal. She fired a parting burst, turned the corner and sprinted for the truck. Benny had the GTO revved up and started to roll out. Dutch leaned out his window and heaved a smoke grenade down the street. Billowing clouds of thick, black smoke from the grenade filled the street to mask their departure. Revy hopped into the truck cab right behind Rock, the M1919's receiver on her lap and its barrel trained out the window. Then, as quickly as they'd come, Lagoon Company made their escape.

. . .

"Why…_Hack! Hack!_...is there so much…_Hack! HACK! _smoke?" Chang coughed as he and Balalaika entered the lab. Their convoy had finally broken through the defenses and driven off the remaining E.O. and Rascal soldiers in the area. The police cars were still jammed together and the officers were too shaken up to begin arresting anyone, let alone stop a convoy of heavily armed Chinese Triads and Russian soldiers.

"Oh that's why." Chang observed the double door lying on the floor, its surface covered with boot prints. The hinges still smoked and glowed red, puddles of slag smoldered on the carpet. He and Balalaika slowly walked inside the opening and found a disaster.

Anything and everything of potential value that wasn't nailed down had been taken. Computer monitors lay with their glass shattered on the ground; boot prints in the slick blue fluid crisscrossed the floor. Documents, papers and empty manila folders sopped up the fluid into a soggy, paper carpet that squelched underfoot. Chang looked in at the sabotaged Apparatus and shook his head in disappointment. He joined Balalaika in the main room; she was staring at the chalkboard on the wall. The Doctor had used it for writing out ideas and formulas that needed more than a sheet of paper to express. Now a drawing had been left behind on it. A man with a cartoonishly long nose peered over a wall, a single curly hair on top of his head. Some writing was hastily scrawled next to and beneath the man.

"Kilroy was here…" Chang slowly read the line next to the man and then the words along the wall in the drawing. "Sorry we left such a mess. Sincerely, your friendly neighborhood Lagoon Company..." Chang groaned in annoyance, this whole operation had turned out to be a dead end. He looked over at Balalaika; her brow was furrowed in confusion as she scanned the chalkboard. "What're you thinking Balalaika? Say something, anything, you're scaring me."

"Who…" She asked, more puzzled than she'd ever been in her life "In the _fuck_…is Kilroy?"

. . .

The Doctor had begun his escape when Lagoon Company made first contact with E.O. and Rascal soldiers. He'd finished sabotaging his machine while the computers copied their files onto his portable hard drives. Ideally he would have destroyed the original hard drives too and burned the paper files but there wasn't time. He had decided that he was finished with Roanapur and was getting out. It saddened him to destroy his work, but he wasn't going to let those criminals get their hands it.

The Doctor activated the security system and punched in the code for the emergency exit. A two foot by two foot panel on the floor slid back, next to the back wall in the corner. He dropped down into the tunnel and began to crawl. He dragged along a personal suitcase full of clothes and the last of his money, all $100,000 worth. He also had his laptop in its bag and two satchels stuffed with hard drives and as many paper files he could cram inside. The panel above him automatically slid shut, seamlessly locking back into place.

As the thermite burned through the double door hinges, The Doctor emerged through a trapdoor in the next building. He dusted himself off and wondered which way to start running. 'If only there were some sort of sign…wait a minute.' The Doctor saw a hand-written message on a square of posterboard taped to the wall, next to the door.

"Escape from Death…this way." The Doctor read aloud. "Well that seems awfully convenient…" _Pah-pahpahpahPOW!_ _Pah-pahpahpahPOW!_ Bursts from a light machine gun echoed from the next street over, back in front of the lab. The Doctor realized he didn't have much choice, follow the signs or perish.

For a doctor, he wasn't in the greatest physical shape. Age was catching up to him and a lifetime of lab work did not constitute an active lifestyle. He'd made it about half a mile before he had to stop and catch his breath. The signs certainly weren't going in a straight line but then again, he couldn't complain too much as he wasn't dead yet. They did seem to be guiding him out of the city, towards the hill and Church on top of it. As The Doctor panted and gasped for air, he didn't hear the idle of a Harley motorcycle creeping down the alley.

"Well hello there!" A voice that was friendly and charming spoke. The Doctor looked up to see a young and pretty nun on a motorcycle, leaning on the handlebars. A lock of blonde hair stuck out from her habit, pink angular sunglasses hid her eyes. She blew a bubble with her gum and cracked it, smiling pleasantly at him. "Out for an afternoon run Doctor?"

"If you mean a run for my life then you'd be correct. This city has gone crazy!"

"That would imply it was sane to begin with. So what's with the luggage, it looks like you're moving out?"

"It's my life's work, what little of it I could bring with me anyway." The Doctor couldn't help but trust the nun; she was familiar to him for some reason. That and if he couldn't trust the Church, then what was left? "I've quit I guess, but don't really know where I'm going to go. I probably should have thought about that sooner…can you help me?"

"Ha! Sure I can. Psalm 27: The Lord is my light and salvation, so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?"

"That sounds perfect to me. I could use some protection from danger because it is a war zone back there. So, shall we go?"

"Whoa, hang on now. I said I _CAN _help you, not that I _WOULD._"

"Well then what do you want from me? Money?"

"I suppose that would be a good start." The nun grinned, resting her head on her arms and popping her gum again.

"So much for the generosity of the Church…"

"Hey, I'm just as human as you. I can't survive on faith alone. Girl's gotta eat every now and then." Then The Doctor remembered where he'd met the nun before.

"Wait a minute; you're from the Church on the hill! I was there once, you weren't very kind then. I think you told me to do…something rather unpleasant to myself and said that God was out playing golf."

"Was that me, did I really? Must have been someone else you're thinking of. Anyway, do you want my help or not? I'll even give you a discount since I'm in a good mood."

"Very well, how much do you want?"

"How much yah got?"

"I'll offer…$20,000."

"Hundred."

"That, that's robbery! $40,000!"

"Seventy-five, that's fair isn't it?" The nun asked as another burst of gunfire rang out.

"$50,000 and I'm begging you!" The nun shifted forward on her motorcycle and started the engine.

"That's the magic number, hop on." As he did, The Doctor couldn't help but notice the Glock 17L tucked snugly under the nun's left arm.

"Uhm…sister, what's that for?" He asked nervously, wondering if he'd made a poor call of judgement.

"Luke 22: And if you don't have a sword, sell your cloak and buy one." The nun explained as the motorcycle climbed the hill out of the city. "Besides, even Joshua and the Israelites had to kick a little ass every now and then."

. . .

* * *

Wow oh wow, that was fun to do. I wanted to work in Electric Head somewhere, so very disappointed they couldn't use it in the anime. Now Eda is in play too, she's really interesting to work in seeing she's CIA and everything. It was nice to do a good battle chapter, they're one of my favorite parts of Black Lagoon. Please let me know what you think of things so far, any comments or suggestions are appreciated!


	14. Chapter 14

Hello, hello again! I originally planned on doing a chapter a week. But, that was a dream and nothing more. The reality is being an engineering student who will get chapters out when homework, quizzes, tests, projects and sleep allows. In this one some important revelations are made, some jokes are made at Lotton's expense because he's fun to pick on, and I write my own version of one of my favorite country songs from the 90's. See if you can guess which one it is!

* * *

. . .

"Burn…burn…burn…wait…nope, burn." Revy said as she sorted through her stack of paper files, two feet tall. Lagoon was gathered around the table behind Country's house, going through what they had managed to salvage from the lab. Benny was holed up in his quarters with his triple-monitor computer, scanning through The Doctor's hard drives for any information. Dutch had taken off earlier in the direction of the Ripoff Church and didn't say when he would return. Hansel and Gretel had tried to help initially but decided to make paper airplanes out of Revy's burn pile. Lotton, Shenhua and Sawyer had been enlisted to help sort as well and the group was making good progress. Unfortunately, the reason for their progress was due to most of the files being completely useless.

"Subject data…subject data…" Country muttered as he flipped through another folder. "Oh! An' lookee here Frederica…_more_…subject data."

"Well, that's all…stuff The Doctor…needed to know. If it wasn't…important to him…he wouldn't have…written it down."

"He certainly was very meticulous." Lotton noted as he thumbed through a test subject's file. "Height, weight, age, gender, BMI, cause of death, time of death, time since passing, preexisting conditions…" He paused and squinted at the page. "Maybe you have something Country. The Doctor even tracked eye color, hair color, occupations, known gang affiliations, tattoos, body modifications, scars; he even took measurements of body parts…"

"Hee-hee." Country chuckled as Sawyer wrote on his back with her finger. He leaned over and whispered something back that made Sawyer blush and she playfully punched his arm. The two started giggling like they knew some inside joke.

"What's so funny?" Lotton asked as Country and Sawyer leaned on each other for support, running out of breath from laughing.

"You said tha Doctor was measurin' body parts right?"

"Yes…I'm usually aware of what I say."

"Whaddyah think Frederica, think he was? Yah think?" Country asked, playfully nudging Sawyer with his arm.

"Oh yeah…'for science'…of course." Sawyer said; dripping with sarcasm as she made little finger quotes around "for science."

"What are you talking about?" Lotton asked, starting to look annoyed at being left out of the loop.

"You haven't figured it out with your magical wizard powers yet?" Revy smirked from across the table. "They're talking about The Doctor measuring the test subject's dongs, yah dork."

"Why…why would he do that?" Lotton looked like a cross between confused and mortified.

"Like Spooky said, 'for science'." Revy explained. "What's the matter, don't feel comfortable talking about it?"

"That's not what I meant!"

"Somebody's awful defensive…" Sawyer said to Country as she looked suspiciously at Lotton out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm not defensive; I just don't feel like discussing such a vulgar subject."

"All the things we've done for a living, this is where you draw the line?" Revy asked. "Dick jokes?"

"Yes. It is certainly where I draw the line!" Lotton declared, jabbing his finger on his pile of files.

"Shoot man, don' be takin' it so pers'nal. We's jest funnin' with yah."

"I'm not taking it personally."

"You're the only one making a fuss." Revy pointed out as she had herself another cigarette. "That makes it seem awfully personal to me." Lotton opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by Country's laughing as Sawyer wrote furiously on his back, smirking at Lotton.

"Too rightcha are Frederica. That'd 'splain ah lot wouldn' it? Tha shades, alligator shirt, trench coat, tha dramatic entrances…tha monolgoues…"

"Okay, this is getting old." Lotton sighed with annoyance. "What are you talking about _now_?"

"Revy, you know what Frederica an' Ah is goin' on 'bout, right?" Country asked with the smirk of the Devil creeping across his face.

"Ha! Yeah I do. Definitely…definitely a case of compensation." She nodded sagely and leered at Lotton. "Seen it a million times."

"Just what would I have to…compensate…for? I fail to see your point."

"Lotton, yah got nothin' to be 'shamed of. Lots ah guys gotta deal with not feelin' up to par. Tha's why yer so touchy on tha subject ain't it?" Lotton and Shenhua, who had stayed silent the entire time, were both slowly growing redder in the face. They were seated next to each other but were refusing to make eye contact. Country, Sawyer and Revy picked up on that immediately and smelled blood in the water.

"Say Mizz Shenhua, yer purdy tight-lipped today. Cat got yer tongue?"

"Yeah Chinglish, what's up with the silent treatment? Something on your mind you wanna share with us?"

"I know…it's because…she likes…"

"Okay, that's enough you hooligans." Dutch interrupted at the last second. He looked down at Shenhua; she looked like she was contemplating suicide by swallowing her own tongue. "Don't you have an appointment today Miss Shenhua?"

"Wah? Oh, yes." Shenhua remembered herself and shook her head to clear it. "I get stiches out today. Lotton, you go with me?"

"It would be my pleasure. Maybe I'll have a chance at _intellectual_ conversation for a change." The two stood and Lotton tried his best to shock Country, Sawyer and Revy with a withering, parting glance. The effect was marred by the responses; Revy flipped him the bird and Country stuck his tongue out between his middle and pointer finger, pointing at Shenhua who had her back turned. Lotton groaned with frustration, rolled his eyes and stomped away.

"Ah that Lotton." Country said as Lotton and Shenhua headed for the gate on Lotton's scooter. "Nice boy, but way too easy to make fun with."

"I hope…he realizes…we only tease him…because he and Shenhua…like each other."

"Wait, what? Who likes who?" Rock chimed in, looking terribly muddled. "I'm still not sure what we're talking about."

"Really Rock?" Revy leaned on her left arm, elbow on the table, and raised an eyebrow. "You didn't follow that whole thing?"

"I really didn't follow what was going on. So what exactly was it that…" Revy shifted her arm ever so slightly and did something to Rock under the table that made him sit bolt upright with his eyes as wide as the moon. "Ohhh…it makes so much sense now."

"Thanks fer joinin' tha rest of tha class Rock, glad yah can keep up." Country turned to Sawyer. "So, has tha Wizard cast any spells on Shenhua yet? How thin is tha walls at yer apartment…?" Country trailed off as he felt a piercing gaze fall on him. He turned to face Dutch; his arms were crossed and had a look on his face that could have split stone. "What?"

"Perverts…and deviants." Dutch said, shaking his head. He pointed at Revy, Rock, Country and Sawyer each in turn. "All of you, perverts and deviants. Are you trying to give Benny and Jane a run for their money?"

"Ah don' reckon tha's possible." Country said as he put his arm around Sawyer, hand resting on her slim waist. "But Ah 'spose tryin' ain't outta tha question." He whispered to Sawyer and her cheeks turned pink.

"Well do what you gotta do _after_ work." Dutch sat down at Lotton and Shenhua's section of bench and picked up a folder of papers. "Have you made any progress today or just been goofing off?"

"Oh yeah Dutch, tons of progress." Revy answered. "Know why? Because all of _this_…" She picked up two handfuls of papers and shook them. "Is fucking useless!" She slammed them back down; knocking over Rock's neatly stacked piles in an avalanche of paper.

"So you haven't found anything yet that would have made it worth our while?" Dutch asked tiredly, flipping through subject data.

"All this shit is good for is rolling cigarettes and not much else." Revy grumbled as one of Hansel's paper airplanes crashed into her, the sharp tip poking her in the ear. "Ow! Watch it!"

"Hee-hee! Think fast!" Gretel launched another plane. Revy was too busy crumpling the first one into a ball to notice. She only looked up just in time for the second plane to fly into her forehead.

"Ouch! Go ahead, throw one more you little twerps and I'll shove it so far up your ass you'll shit confetti for a week!"

"Kids…" Country warned. "If yah play too rough with Revy an' break her, Ah'm not gonna be responsible fer tha consequences." He paused and then grinned as he had an idea. "On tha other hand, Ah bethca can't git one down her shirt."

"Hey! What's the idea?!" Revy shouted, under assault from a squadron of paper planes. "What kind of ideas have you been giving these two?! Some guardian you are!"

"Hey, Ah think Ah'm doin' ah fine job. Ah'm doin' a good job, ain't Ah kiddos?"

"Yep!" The Twins agreed in unison and launched another flight of planes.

'Twelve-year olds." Dutch thought as Revy chased The Twins around the table. "My entire crew has been replaced with twelve-year olds. Perverted, simple-minded and insane twelve-year olds.'

"Hey Dutch!" Benny called from the side door of his Quonset hut.

"What's up Benny-Boy?"

"There are a few things on this drive you really need to take a look at."

. . .

"God. Damn. It." Balalaika ground out as she stared into her untouched vodka. She ran her finger around the rim of the glass, feeling like she had been duped somehow.

"I couldn't agree more." Chang said as he stirred his Jack and coke. "Talk about getting shafted." He knocked back his drink and the glass clinked against the bar as he put it back down. "I lost twenty three people…how about you?"

"Seventeen sets of dog tags." Balalaika said sadly. "And for what when we have nothing to show."

"At least we put a dent in Lin's soldiers and took down some E.O. too. I think the final count was around forty-odd Rascals and thirty-something Extra Order. No telling how many were wounded or what Lagoon got."

"Like it matters. This was just like another battle in Afghanistan. We captured no territory, dealt no crushing blow to the enemy, gained nothing and needlessly lost lives." Balalaika polished off her drink and waved to Bao for a refill. "But you know what irks me the most?"

"I'm almost afraid to ask but I'll bite."

"We were beaten to the prize by Lagoon. Dutch himself is a worthy adversary but a Bumpkin, a Yaponski, a Psychopath, a Nerd and a Pretty-boy...beat us!" She fumed, livid that Lagoon had so blatantly flaunted themselves.

"We do have something they don't, we have the machine." The Apparatus was in a Hotel Moscow warehouse being worked on. Progress was practically non-existent. The lead mechanic had said it was very difficult to put something back together when you didn't know what it was supposed to look like in the first place or how it even worked.

"A small comfort. It's useless; a pile of scrap for the dump is what we have. What we really need is the man who built it."

"And we don't know who they are, what they look like…"

"No we don't. However…" Balalaika was having an idea and tapped her cigar case on the bar. "Since Lagoon found the lab so quickly, I would bet they know what The Doctor looks like and even where he might have gone." She stood quickly and donned her greatcoat. "Boris, have the car brought around!" Chang got up and followed Balalaika out the door.

"Hey." He said before she could climb into her car. "When we get to the airfield, try not to give them a hard time."

"Me? Give Lagoon a hard time?"

"I'm just saying. You can get a little…feisty, when you're wound up."

"Oh, it's feisty now?" She smiled for the first time that day as she sat in her car. "If you think this is bad, wait until we get there."

. . .

"Emails…lots and lots of emails." Dutch observed as he looked over Benny's shoulder. "All between the same two users. The Doctor and some guy who calls himself 'B'. They didn't use names, that's pretty secretive for a doctor."

"Probably in case this exact scenario happened." Benny theorized as he scrolled through several years' worth of messages. "If their security was compromised, they wouldn't want real names leaking out."

"Right. Got anything interesting yet?"

"Not really, but there is one thing that makes me suspicious and that's the encryption used on the hard drives to try and prevent someone like me from accessing it. Not that they slowed me down or anything mind you. But what worries me is that the programming bears the signature of U.S. Government."

"Great." Dutch had been hoping he could live the rest of his life without ever hearing the phrase "U.S. Government" ever again but it seemed now that was just a fool's hope. "Just our luck. Any more good news?"

"I saved the best for last." Benny grinned, excited to show off what he'd found. "The Doctor recorded everything. Literally...everything; including his video chat sessions." Benny brought up the file and pressed play. On the smaller screen was The Doctor: grey beard, portly face, glasses and all. The main screen was occupied by an old man, scowling like the world was a constant and irksome annoyance. Gnarled hands were clasped on the head of a long cane; fingers of one hand were drumming irritably on the back of the other. The thing that struck Dutch the most about the man was his eyes. Cruel, hard and piercing in gaze they were and dark as the Devil's soul. Through the screen, Dutch saw a seething anger and indomitable will written on the man's face. He had eyes just like The Maid did, soldier's eyes that had stared Death in the face and didn't blink. With his gift for reading people, Dutch could tell instantly this was the kind of person who always got what they wanted and to hell with anything or anyone that got in his way.

"Grumpy looking old fart isn't he?" Benny asked as the video played. "Okay, here's the good part."

"Did you find those damn kids yet?" The old man grumbled.

"And a good morning to you too sir." The Doctor said pleasantly. "I'm afraid not, we did discuss this in our last phone call."

"Right, right, right. Well, reason I set up a video chat today is because there's someone I'd like you to meet." The man gestured for someone off-screen and a senior looking military officer sat down next to the old man. "This is General Braxton from the Pentagon's Special Activities Division. He's _very_ interested in your research."

"Well I'm uhm, flattered General."

"You should be Doctor. Your work has the potential to become a very important asset to our national security. If your experiments do bear fruit, we are considering bringing our funding to assist. But we do expect results, consistent results. You understand of course?"

"Oh, completely sir." The Doctor, General Braxton and the old man deliberated for a few more minutes and then the General took his leave.

"So, what do you think?" The old man asked, leering at the screen with a smile that revealed teeth ruined by a lifetime of two packs a day. "A general and a two-star to boot, from the Pentagon…c'mon Doc, make some noise. You excited or not?"

"I'm…" The Doctor chose his words carefully. "Uneasy. I thought this was a private project. You mentioned nothing of the military being involved."

"Well it is a private project…kind of. I mean, it is funded by the private citizens of the United States. We're just, seeing if they military's interested. Maybe if we get some shit done they'll throw some money our way or even buy you some new equipment."

"I understand that, it's just that I am in doubt of their intent for my research once it's complete. The military has a reputation for…"

"You know what? I'm going to stop you right there." The old man interrupted and rubbed his eyes in annoyance. "I'm your Benefactor, not your shrink or your damn mother. If you have problems, I'll find someone else to give my money, someone who does as they are told. You keep this shit up and I'll maroon you on that little island of Roanapur you have become so fond of." The Benefactor growled; teeth barred as he put The Doctor back in place. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, yes sir." The Director said, thoroughly browbeaten. "I'm sorry, I was out out line."

"Well don't let it happen again. Get back to looking and finding those kids. I'll call you in a week." The connection in the video ended and the file closed.

What do you make of that Boss?" Benny asked as he fiddled with some more email files on the drive.

"I think we're on the edge of getting in over our heads. A general, the Pentagon…this just reeks of bad decisions."

"That's what I was thinking. Oh, wait a minute." Benny pulled up an email and scanned it quickly. He clicked the button in the corner to display the message in full screen. "Read."

"The security of The Lab…is paramount." Dutch read. "Directing all personnel of E.O. to Roanapur…will contact…Lin and his Rascals to assist." He finished reading and swore as he made the connection. "That old man, 'The Benefactor', is The Doctor's boss, one of the bosses at Extra Order and is Lin's boss too? God damn, is there anything this guy doesn't have his hands in?"

"He's a regular master of puppets isn't he? I don't think we could have guessed this in a million years."

"Hey Dutch?" Rock stuck his head inside the hut. "We have some visitors coming through the gate. I think it's someone we know."

"Let me guess. Chang and Balalaika?"

"Right." Rock nodded and glanced back outside. "And I think you should do most of the talking. Balalaika probably isn't too happy and she's been kind of cold to me since that night with The Twins…"

"Okay, I'll be right out." Dutch took a moment to have himself a deep breath and organize his thoughts. At the rate things were going, his blood pressure was sure to give him a heart attack one of these days; not even considering the group of basket cases he had for a crew. 'Why can't things be easy for once?' He wondered to himself. 'Oh well, what the hell, let's get this over with.'

. . .

"What we do now?" Chai-son asked as he and Lin surveyed the wreckage of the empty lab. They had come to pick up their dead and survey the aftermath.

"I don't know. They stole everything. Computers, files, the machine." Lin looked into the room where The Apparatus had stood; the holes in the floor for the mounting bolts were all the Russian mechanics had left.

"Do we call Bossman?" Chai-son asked as he rolled himself about the lab. He had survived losing his legs to Country's Corsair but now was confined to a wheelchair. "I mean, this pretty heavy shit."

"You think I not know that?! Of course it bad shit. Lab gone, doctor gone too."

"I ask E.O. soldiers what they saw. They say it was mostly Russian and Chinese and someone else."

"Who could third group be?" Lin trailed off as he saw the chalkboard. "Friendly…neighborhood…Lagoon…Company. Fuck." Lin turned on his heel and stormed out of the lab. Chai-son lingered for a moment, squinting at the chalkboard.

"Who the fuck Kilroy?"

. . .

"Hello Miss Balalaika and Mister Chang!" Hansel and Gretel greeted the two mafia heads at the end of the driveway. "Why are you visiting today?"

"Just business today kids." Chang smiled as he and Balalaika crossed the lawn. "Where is everyone?"

"They're out back, looking through a bunch of papers. We were helping but got bored so we were playing with Revy." Hansel said. "But she's not a very good sport."

"I couldn't imagine why." Chang said, looking over at Balalaika. She was keeping her thoughts to herself and refused to make eye contact with The Twins. Seeing she wasn't in a talking mood, Chang looked back to The Twins. "What did you do?"

"Just threw a few paper airplanes." Gretel answered. "She said she was going to fold us up into airplanes and see if we could fly by launching us off the roof if we didn't stop." Chang shook his head and said that sounded just like Revy. As he and The Twins laughed, a shadow of a smile flickered across Balalaika's face but she maintained her cool demeanor. The Twins led them around to the back of the house where Lagoon was still sifting through documents.

"Well hello Miss Balalaika and Mr. Chang." Rock looked up from his stack. "What're you doing here?"

"Exercising our curiosity." Chang explained, picking up a folder and thumbing through it. "Is this all you found?"

"Pretty much." Revy said as she dropped another file into the barrel at the end of the table. "No money to be had here. We probably won't get more than peanuts from selling off the computers we got." She pointed over at Benny's quarters. "If you wanna talk to Dutch, he's over there."

. . .

"I don't like it." Chang said after Dutch and Benny showed him and Balalaika the video and emails. "This is bad, like borderline Terminator Maids showing up again bad."

"So much for the Americans not getting involved." Balalaika said. "They're sure to show up now, protecting their investment."

"Eh, I wouldn't be so sure…" Benny mused, re-watching the video. "From what I'm gathering, the Pentagon is _thinking _about giving them money. They haven't actually committed anything yet. They're still waiting to see if The Doctor's experiments have actually worked or not, they want proof."

"Well hell." Dutch said, looking into the yard where Country and Sawyer were showing The Twins how to fold a Bulldog Dart style paper plane. "We've got their proof right outside."

. . .

"So Lagoon stole from lab too?" Chai-son asked as he and Lin rode back to Lin's house. Well, the shattered shell of what remained of the house. It was slowly undergoing reconstruction, fixing all the holes from the rockets, bullets and the crater out back from the bomb was taking longer than expected. Lin meanwhile had fired his grounds crew, it was pointless to keep them around since the lawn was ripped to shreds and Lin hadn't been in a golfing mood for months. He now lived in the grounds crew house, a smaller building on the edge of the lawn. It was the only building on the entire property that had escaped major damage, having been strafed just once.

"Yes Lagoon did. Hotel Moscow and Triad were second wave. Lagoon probably has Doctor too. He not among the dead."

"So another person to find to the list." Chai-son remembered the picture of The Twins Lin had gotten from The Benefactor.

"Most important to get back is Doctor. Kids not big concern, they been missing, supposed to be missing. Doctor not supposed to be missing." The car pulled off the road onto the driveway and through the gate. "Right now we not calling Bossman. What he not know will not hurt him, we fix this ourselves, we not children." Lin got out of the car and the driver helped Chai-son into his wheelchair.

"So how we fix this? I mean, lab is trash and machine is gone." Chai-son asked as they made their way up the front walk.

"Damn it! I not know, I improvise, make up as we go." Lin snapped. "If we get Doctor back, he can make new machine, we find new place to set up new lab, everything hunky-dory and Bossman not fry our asses."

They arrived at the cracked concrete of the front porch and Lin took in the ruins of his mansion.

"So how we get Doctor back if Lagoon have him?" Chai-son asked as he looked around at the ongoing reconstruction. "We cannot attack airfield, twice it go bad. They always there, cannot sneak in. We have no planes and even so, Country knock them out of sky."

"We need something to make them give Doctor up. Something really important we can use as incentive."

"Or…someone?" Chai-son suggested. Lin looked over at his lieutenant as a most malicious, wicked and downright dastardly idea took root in his mind. He looked over his ruined property, thinking about all the men under his command that had perished fighting Lagoon Company, all the wasted money, time and resources. He rubbed his forehead, remembering the feeling of the cool metal from the fifty cent piece as Country's fist smashed it into his face. Just remembering that insult made him go hot with rage from head to toe.

"Someone…more like two someones." He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "This Lin. You still have picture of Twins right? Good. You will need it."

. . .

"What're we gonna do?" Country asked as everyone gathered around the table out back. "Tha Pentagon gittin' involved sure does throw ah monkey wrench into things."

"It sure does. I say let's go over who and what we're dealing with and see what we can make of it." Rock's brain was working in overdrive as he mulled over everything that had transpired in the past few months. Everyone let him take his time as he scribbled down notes on the back of a folder, muttering to himself and smoking his cigarette right down to the filter. After about five minutes, he felt he was ready.

"Alright, here's what we know and please wait until I'm done." He took a swig of his beer to wet his throat. "There are five parties or groups at work. There's us: Revy, Benny, Dutch, Country, Jane, Hansel, Gretel, Sawyer, Shenhua, Lotton, Chang and Balalaika and me. Next is Mr. Lin and his Rascals. Then of course is Extra Order. The last two are The Doctor and whoever the man is that calls himself The Benefactor. I think I can safely say that The Doctor, E.O. and Lin all work for The Benefactor in some fashion. At the request of The Benefactor, Lin and E.O. were supposed to be guarding the lab and The Doctor. They've failed in that task obviously. There would be a sixth 'party' but the lab is destroyed and the machine is kaput. I think The Doctor is still somewhere in the city and alive for now." Rock paused to see if there were any questions. Hearing none, he continued.

"Now, we don't know anything about this Benefactor except he seems to have a lot of money and important friends in important places. There is nothing that can be done about him, so there's no point in worrying about him. What we need to focus on are the three problems we _can_ do something about. First, The Doctor must be found and gotten out of the city. That'll take some attention away from here and off of us. Next, Extra Order and Lin. The strength of E.O. has never been in their numbers, they're a relatively small organization. Their success comes from their equipment, training, experience and…enthusiasm, for lack of a better word. If we can figure out how to fight them on our terms I am sure we can beat them. Lastly is Lin. He does have numbers on his side, I think at least five hundred if my math is correct, and it usually is. Most of them are hired thugs, poorly trained, motivated mostly by money and moderately armed at best. If we can break their will, sap their morale somehow, we might not have to fight them at all…" He stopped as he saw the disapproving look on Balalaika's face when he mentioned not fighting. He had finally done what he'd sworn he'd never do, pull the trigger on another human being. But that didn't mean he would endorse waging two wars if one could be avoided. "Or at least make them easier to fight anyway." He compromised and Balalaika seemed happier with that. "So, that's everyone's homework. Brainstorm ideas based off what I just told you. Oh, and Revy, I think I might know where The Doctor is."

"Really? How and where?"

"Think about it. Who in this city do we know that always has an ear to the ground and an eye out; looking and listening for situations just like this? Especially if there's a good chance some easy money could be made while they're at it…remind you of anyone?" Revy turned her ideas over for a moment and scowled as she came to the one and only conclusion.

"Oh, _of course_." Revy agreed with Rock, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "Who else? Of course it would be her…" She angrily ran her fingers through her hair, fuming with competitive jealousy. "It would be fuckin' Eda. That skank's probably gonna come knockin' any minute now, asking us to give The Doctor a life outta town. Just you wait." No sooner had Revy given her prediction; the old rotary phone in the kitchen began to ring.

"Hey Bumpkin. Your phone's ringing…I wonder who it could be?"

. . .

"Roanapur Internationl Airfield, home of Tha Sharkmouth Airforce, ah division of Lagoon Comp'ny. This is Country, how might Ah direct yer call?" Ah rattled off as Ah answered the phone. "Oh, why hello Rico. Ah wasn't expectin' you. What's new up on tha hill?"

"Oh, not much. I mean, I _did_ make Deacon the other day, so I got that going for me, which is nice." Tha priest in trainin' was tryin' not to sound too proud of himself.

"W'all congratulations! It's refreshin' to hear good news these days. Oh, been meanin' to ask how yer M60's been doin' since you'd brought it down last fer us to look at."

"It's as dependable as the sun rising and setting. I think Revy has a talent she hasn't exploited yet. She has a knack for gunsmithing, old man Praiyachat seems to have rubbed off on her."

"Ah'll be sure to pass that along, she'll really like hearin' that. Y'all ain't been havin' any trouble as of late have yah?"

"Not since my '60 is back up and running. Lin and his guys were around the other week wanting to buy almost everything we had in stock; said it was for guarding something or other. Long story short, they weren't very polite to Sister Yolanda and there was a drastic failure of communications. They're effectively excommunicated so to speak. Sister Yolanda blacklisted them and said they're not allowed within 1,000 yards of the place."

"Which jest happens to be tha effective range of an M60 general purpose machine gun…how's 'bout that fer coincidences?"

"Exactly. Unfortunately, this call isn't for giggles alone, I'm afraid it's supposed to be business."

"This ain' 'bout me tellin' that joke about tha newlywed couple gittin' banned from Home Depot while Ah was in tha chapel is it?"

"I had actually forgotten about that and no, it isn't. I thought that joke was hilarious by the way. Sis is busy today but wanted me to pass along that she…hang on, she wrote it down somewhere…" There was ah clack as tha phone was set on a table an' some rustlin' of papers as Rico sorted through his desk. "Give me a moment…so much cleaning to do…so little time…"

"It's fine, Ah got five extra sets of ears standin' behind me an' four more in tha hall. We'll all git through this together." Dutch, Rock, Revy, Benny an' Frederica were all crammed into tha kitchen with me. Balalaika, Chang an' The Twins were in tha hall; all listenin' in.

"Okay, got it. Wow, she's usually not this cryptic. She, has…met someone who…hath given back what the Lord…hath taken away. His life's work…walks the Earth. Sorry, but her handwriting is atrocious. Did you make any sense of that?"

"She would try to be all dramatic and mysterious." Revy commented from the kitchen table. "Always trying to use the most amount of words to say the least amount of ideas."

"Well, I still don't know what Sis meant, but that was a surprisingly eloquent way to put it Rebecca." Rico said; tha boy had tha ears of ah fox. "That's it though…oh, and of course: call her ASAP, she has a job for you, cash up front, blah-blah-blah, you know the rest."

"Thanks fer tha info an' lettin' us know. We'll be 'long to visit soon as we can."

"See you later. Until then, Christ be with you."

"An' also with you. Ah-men."

"Amen." Rico hung up an' Ah replaced tha phone on its hook.

"Well yah proved yer psychic Revy, that confirms it."

"Toldja so. I know how Eda works. She thinks she's some kind of secret agent or something, probably fancies herself as a female James Bond." Everyone laughed at that, jokin' about Eda shootin' ah laser watch an' seducin' enemy agents. With tha excitement of tha phone call over, everyone began to file out of tha kitchen. As he passed me, Ah couldn' help but notice tha smile Dutch was failin' to hide.

. . .

Every man and woman on this green and blue cosmic marble called Earth has a vice; or two…or three if they're an overachiever. Some vices are worse than others. For some it's drink or drug. Others it's lust and a wandering eye or perhaps it's something as innocent as a craving for the perfect Bismark crème doughnut. Chief Watsup of the Roanapur Police Department was no exception and his vice was golf.

He was on his evening patrol in his car; cruising the city solo. Near one of the ritzier sections of town, he saw the billboard. A brand new course was having its grand opening and was offering a free round to anyone who showed up, for one night only. Watsup knew fully well he had told his wife he'd be home early for an overdue date night. He reasoned he still had plenty of time and made a lane change. He turned off the road and pulled up in front of the clubhouse, the place was packed. He told himself: "Just the first three holes, you can always come back. Besides, you're the chief of police. Gotta make an appearance, check the place out, see what and who is happening. Public relations work and all that…yeah. And you can always come back, not like it's going anywhere." Then he saw the course and it was how he had envisioned golf perfection. Emerald green grass was immaculately manicured and there was not a grain of sand out of place in the bunkers. Maybe he'd just play the first nine…

"It's a good thing I keep my clubs in the trunk. I'd better call home first though, so she won't worry."

The phone at the Watsup residence rang and Mrs. Watsup, green face mask, hair up in curlers, fluffy bathrobe, painted toenails and all, answered.

"Hey there honey." She said, filing a nail. "Are we still on for tonight?"

"Ah, well there's been some extra work that's cropped up. Remember that Lagoon Company I was telling you about? Yeah, lots of trouble with them so I'm gonna be a little late. Love you!" Mrs. Watsup slumped into her recliner in the living room and flipped on the TV. Maybe there would be something about this Lagoon what's-its-face on the news. She changed channels just in time to see a live-feed commercial for the new golf course and their opening special. There was a camera in front of the club house and parking lot, showing all the cars of Roanapur's elite. Right in the front row, between an Aston Martin and a Bentley was her husband's squad car, vehicle number 01. Fighting back tears, she called her sister.

"Hey sis, what's up?" All she heard was a sob and whimper on the other end. "What's wrong? Your man leave you or something?" She joked.

"Yes! And her name is Golf! Whhaaaaaaaaa…." Mrs. Watsup howled over the phone. Her sister tried to calm her down but to no avail. She told her she was coming over and was on her way.

"Hey babe, I'm going over to my sisters." She said to her boyfriend as she put on her shoes.

"The chief's at it again huh?" He asked, rooting around the kitchen for a snack.

"Yeah, he is. Hey, I was going to take the six-pack, that okay?"

"You're going to need it more than me, whatever you gotta do." He said, closing the fridge and handing her the cans. "The store's just a mile anyway and I'm a big boy, I can go all by myself now." He joked, kissing his girlfriend as she headed out the door. They walked to their cars and headed off in opposite directions. She headed north for her sister's and he headed south to the corner store.

The boyfriend hopped out of his car, leaving the keys in the ignition. He was a familiar face at the store, had his usual for Friday nights and even had been granted a tab he always paid. All he had to do was walk inside, grab the six-pack waiting for him on the counter, wave to the owner, turn around and walk out. He made it halfway when the gang of five Roanapur Rascals loitering on the side of the store jumped into his car and roared away into the night.

"Wooooo! Fuck yeah!" The driver yelled as they sped down the road, blowing through stop signs and traffic lights like they were softly spoken suggestions. "You only got one life, live it up!"

"Yeah, YOLO!" One Rascal in the backseat cheered. _WHACK!_ The guy next to him smacked him upside the head.

"The fuck you saying? Did I not tell you being stupid and saying stupid was going to get painful?"

"It a saying I make up."

"What the fuck it mean? What YOLO?"

"You only live once."

"That fucking stupid. No one say that."

"Hey, it catch on. You wait and see."

"How about you shut the fuck up back there?" The Rascal in the shotgun seat suggested and was heeded instantly. "C'mon, let see what this shit heap really do. We only at 75." The driver punched the gas and the needle climbed to 80, 90, 95, 100. They were past the city limits now, onto less maintained roads that had been taking a beating from the monsoon rains. The car was bouncing around the road, weaving back and forth across the center line. The radio was blasting and the occupants were raising an adrenaline fueled ruckus.

On the island's interior was a strip coal mine and their primary explosive of choice was nitroglycerin; an extremely effective but sensitive liquid. Simply dropping a dallop from waist height is enough to set it off. A tanker truck, filled to the brim with the fluid, was making its way to the mine. It had just crossed over from the mainland and the driver was tired from the long journey. He made sure to climb the hills slowly, tapping his hands on the steering wheel as he listened to the radio. The music was supposed to settle his nerves and help him not think about the massive bomb he was towing. Up ahead was a blind turn at the crest of the next hill. Once he made that, it would be one long, straight stretch to the mine's driveway.

The five Rascals with their stolen car were pushing the machine to find its limits. The speedometer stopped at 110 miles per hour but the needle was way past that. They were coming up to a blind turn to their left and were in the middle of the road like they owned it. The driver put the pedal to the floor as they climbed the hill, speeding along past caring. One passenger in the backseat asked "How about we slow down a little?" He was asked: "How about you shut up before you lose some of your fuckin' teeth?" As a result, the Rascals and the truck driver were equally surprised when they both tried to make the turn at the same time.

The Rascal driver yanked the wheel hard left and sideswiped the rock face of the hill with the car, missing the truck by inches. The trucker also swerved left, putting most of the weight on the outside lip of the road. It was an old road, mostly tar and chip patches with occasional strips of asphalt. The foundation was sodden, soaked with the floodwaters of monsoon rains. It couldn't bear the weight of the truck and its cargo and gave way. The driver felt his vehicle begin to roll past the point of no return and immediately bailed out the passenger door. He would rather lose the truck than be disintegrated.

At the bottom of what was almost a sheer drop, right at the blind turn, was the substation for the entire city of Roanapur. The driver stood on the muddy dirt road and watched as his truck rolled the five hundred feet down the hill into the valley, straight for the substation. It crashed through the fence and smashed into the structure, its tank rupturing on impact. Thousands of gallons of nitroglycerin exploded, destroying the substation in an eardrum rupturing, forest leveling blast. The driver, knocked over by the shock-wave, shakily got to his feet and looked to the horizon off to his right. The Friday night lights of Roanapur twinkled seductively and then, block by block, flickered out.

"Well fuck me sideways." The driver groaned. "I am sooo fired."

In the next valley over, the sawmill was behind schedule and running overtime hours. Over the buzzing of the saws, the foreman heard the explosion and then everything ground to a stop. He climbed the hill and gazed upon the still growing fireball, trees in a three hundred yard radius knocked down and pieces of metal flung far and wide. He scampered back down the hill and was relieved to find the phone company had switched on their emergency generators. He dialed for the police and gave his story.

"Yeah, I'm the foreman out at the sawmill down the road from the strip mine. I think someone just blew up the substation in the next valley. Right, right. Yeah, huge bang, massive fireball, trees down all around it. I…yes, I realize you're busy. Yes, I can hear the gunfire from here. I understand that officer, but you should at least send _someone_ out here. Well find the Chief then, I don't care. Just send someone!"

At the police station, it was an exercise in trying not to panic. Within seconds of power going down, gunfire erupted around the city and crime exploded, people ran amok in the streets. The most senior officer at the head precinct rang up the Mayor. Corrupt as the man was, it was better to do something than nothing.

"Hello Mayor, sorry to wake you up." The Sergeant apologized.

"It's alright son. I just had a stray RPG go past my bedroom window, I don't think I'm going back to sleep anytime soon."

"I see. Well, as you can tell, the power is out and the defecation is really hitting the oscillation."

"It sure is; we'll have to get a handle on this fast. I thought I'd be hearing this call from Watsup though…where is he?"

"That's the main reason I'm calling sir, we don't know."

"Oh, I'll bet the keys to the city I know where he's at, now that I think about it."

"Where would that be sir?"

"Use your head for more than a hat-rack son. If he's not napping at his desk or at home, then I guarantee he's at a golf course somewhere; probably about five holes and four scotches in. Try that new place that opened today first." A patrol car was sent out to the course and found the Chief. He was passed out at the seventh green, six scotches and five beers in. After a few tense hours and several tear gas grenades later from the police, the city finally settled back into a relative calm. A crew from the power company was sent out to the substation to assess the damage. Two hours later, the chief technician gave his report to the Mayor. The substation was totaled, completely destroyed. It was going to take at least two weeks, maybe three, before a new substation could be built and power restored. In the meantime, he suggested everyone stay home and out of trouble.

"I don't know what the people should do while they wait. Tell 'em to think of it as an unplanned vacation or something." He shrugged to the Mayor.

. . .

All of this took place unknown to Lagoon and company. Dutch had retired to his quarters, read a chapter from "The Sayings of Chairman Mao", took off his sunglasses and went to bed. Benny had spent the rest of the evening video chatting with Jane until his eyes itched from want of sleep. He said goodnight to Jane, turned off his computer and passed out on his futon. Country had taught Rock, Revy, Sawyer and The Twins how to play a fast-paced card game called ERS. Their evening at the kitchen table playing ERS lead to many sore, slapped hands and everyone but The Twins getting sloppy drunk on vodka and lemonade. Revy stubbornly insisted that she:

"Washn't drunk. Vodka'sh only fer potato diggersh an' she only got drunk on..uhmmm…fuck. I forget." She and Rock staggered upstairs, steadied by giggling Twins who laughed as Rock slipped between English and Japanese seemingly at random. The Twins pushed the pair into their room and onto their bed. Rock and Revy started kissing as soon as they hit the covers, lips drunkenly mashed against each other.

"Hey…audienencshes aren't welcome." Revy slurred, seeing The Twins still in the doorway. "Buzz off." The Twins closed the door and went to their room, reading "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn", a present from Country for doing well on their last exam from Benny, by flashlight under the covers. Country and Sawyer flopped down on the living room couch and caught the late night movie: "Young Frankenstein". Country said he'd never seen nor even heard of it. Sawyer was mortified at the thought, asking how Country had gotten so tall living under such a big rock. They made it through the first ten minutes before passing out. Country had his feet up on the coffee table, his left cheek resting on Sawyer's head. She had her legs across his lap; head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. She took his left arm and pulled it across her, holding his hand with both of hers over her stomach. Before his eyes slammed shut, Country turned off the TV, the last source of light in the house. So, no one in Lagoon noticed when the substation five miles out of town went up in flames and the lights of Roanapur flickered off.

. . .

* * *

Did you guess, did you guess, did you guess? The section from Chief Watsup blowing off date night to play golf all down to the power company tech talking to the Mayor is the one I am talking about. If you have a guess as to which song it was based on, feel free to PM me or put in in with your review if you have one. I hope this chapter was a good one and you enjoyed it. Next one will be...well...whenever it will be!


	15. Chapter 15

I just realized I accidentally hit submit before this chapter was fully ready...sorry about that. Anyway, I am using an * for dialogue in foreign languages. If you see a * next to a phrase, its meaning will be at the bottom notes. Let's see, anything else...this chapter is pretty grisly, not exactly kiddie friendly. It comes with the territory of going Level 5, so be wary.

* * *

. . .

Benny was the first to wake up. He instantly knew something wasn't right because it was too bright.

"Millions of miles away…" He grumbled as the sunbeam filtering through the gap in the blinds shone in his eyes. "And the sun headshots me every damn time." He rolled off his futon and put on his glasses. He had an alarm clock that was _supposed_ to wake him up at 9:00 AM, every day. The display was black, the plug still in the wall.

"Piece of cheap Chinese crap. Probably has a fuse or something that blew." Benny looked at his watch and was surprised to see it was almost 11:00 AM. He wondered why no one had woken him up. They didn't have a job today or anything, but someone ought to have at least knocked on his door to see if he was alive. Well, all things improve with breakfast.

The first thing Benny noticed was the silence. He didn't hear the usual far off sounds of the city; no cars, no gunfire. He shrugged it off, assuming it was just a slow Saturday. Inside the house, Country and Sawyer were still passed out on the living room couch. Country stirred a little as Benny let the screen door swing shut behind him, but didn't wake. Benny made his way to the kitchen, got out materials for peanut butter and banana sandwiches and was happy to find the tea kettle still full of water. He used it to fill up the drip coffee maker and pushed the ON button. Nothing, it didn't start up, the light didn't come on, nothing.

"First my alarm clock and now this." Benny opened the refrigerator to get milk and saw the little light didn't turn on either. He knew he would have to wake Country up now, he didn't feel like looking for the circuit panel.

"Hey, Country…hey…" Benny gently shook Country's shoulder. He didn't know how Country would react to waking up hungover, but using Revy as previous experience, he wasn't taking chances. Country's eyes snapped open then squeezed tightly shut again as sunlight assaulted his pupils. He slowly blinked a few times, looking like a weary owl with the purple rings around his eyes.

"Vodka an' lemonade…tha was ah poor choice…" He said, rubbing his face with his free hand. "Wha's up Benny? An' speak softly; noise is not mah friend."

"I think we've lost power, I don't know where the circuit panel is."

"Tha house is old. We prob'bly jest tripped ah breaker." Country rolled his head around his shoulders a few times, popping vertebrae stiff from a night on the couch. "Be with yah in ah jiffy Benny, lemme git up first." He lifted Sawyer's legs off his lap and placed them so her feet were on the coffee table. He then tried to lift his left arm off Sawyer but she continued to hold his hand with both of hers. He tried again and again, lifting his arm and hers higher each time. Benny was stifling a laugh, watching Country try to gently wiggle his hand free without waking Sawyer up.

"C'mon sweetheart, Ah gotta git up, lemme go." He finally worked himself free and softly laid Sawyer on the couch as he stood up. She murmured a little but continued to snooze, tucking her legs up as she curled into a little ball.

"Jane does the same thing sometimes." Benny said as Country laid the blanket from the back of the couch on Sawyer. "My arm will have gone all numb and tingly but I can't move it because I know it'll wake her up."

"Ah don' think she's gonna be wakin' up fer ah while. Frederica's too small to be tryin' to keep up with tha rest of us when we're drinkin'. 'Specially Revy who's got some practice in." Country lead the way through the house, yawning and cursing vodka the whole way. In the small back room that was home to the airfield's radio and PA system was the circuit box. Country popped the access panel and looked at the rows of fuses, searching for the kitchen's fuse.

"Thar's tha little devil." He unscrewed the fuse and examined it closely with bloodshot eyes. "Seems tah be kosher tah me." Country screwed the fuse back in and closed the panel. "Well, seems like power's down indeed. See if tha phone's workin'. Ah'm gonna go an' fill tha tub with whatever water pressure we've got left." Country stretched, reaching his arms up so high that his palms touched the ceiling. He and Benny walked back down the hall, Benny went to the kitchen. He heard Country muttering to himself as he ascended the stairs.

"Oh…what ah way tah start tha day…"

. . .

"What about the generator in Hangar 2?" Dutch asked as we had ah massive brunch consistin' of all tha food from tha freezers, grilled out back.

"Thought of tha already." Ah said with ah mouthful of Sambar steak. "There was ah hole in Hangar 2's wall that let in tha salt air an' rain fer who knows how long. Tha generator's rusted could take it apart an' try to put it back in workin' order but…that's gonna take ah week at least. An' that's assumin' we don' hafta order new parts which Ah'm sure we will."

"The broadcast on the radio said we're going to be down for at least two weeks." Benny was referin' to mah battery powered radio an' tha statement from tha power company. "Meanwhile we have no lights, my computers won't work, no fridge or freezer, no internet, no running water, no computer, the phones work barely, no washing machine, no stove or oven…did I mention my computer won't work?"

"Yeah, Ah know. Hey Rock, hand me that plate of little pies, ain' had ah crack at 'em yet." Frederica had brought Lotton, Shenhua an' what little food they had in their place over. She was provin' to be an amazin' baker, tha proof was evident in her little mince-meat pies. She got all flustered when Ah told her so an' said it was 'Jest ah little somethin'' she'd whipped up.

"So, if you know…then why are you so calm about it?" Benny asked, flabbergasted at mah nonchalant attitude.

"Ah've lived most of mah life without 'lectricity. We didn' git power run out to tha house back in Michigan 'till Ah was 16. So fer me, this is jest like bein' home." Ah looked up from mah pie, hard to do 'cause it was sooooooo good, to see Benny lookin' at me like Ah'd grown ah third eye on mah forehead. "'Sides, if y'all git bored, Ah have work y'all can do."

. . .

"You and your fuckin' stupid, big mouth Benny!" Revy yelled as she stabbed her shovel into the ground. "You just had to drag me down with you, didn't you?! You couldn't suffer by yourself!" She turned over the shovel and dug up another chunk of earth. Power had been down for a total of three days, nine hours and twelve minutes, not like Benny was counting or anything, when the Doldrums finally caught up to him. He had made the error of being within earshot of Country while lamenting how bored he was.

"Yer bored eh? Yah sure?" Country had asked; a grin on his face and a twinkle in his bright, green-brown eyes. "'Cause if yah are, there's ways Ah can fix that…"

"Oh God I'm losing my mind! Give me something to do!" Benny had begged. "I don't know how you're staying so upbeat! We're all bored, Revy's bored…"

"Oh she is, is she? Gooooood…" Country beckoned for Revy on the porch and led the pair to a roped off 25-yard by 50-yard plot next to the log pile and splitting stump. "Since both y'all's soooo bored, start diggin' this plot. Git it nice an' tilled up."

"For what?"

"Ah garden of course. Be nice to have some fresh stuff someday wouldn' it? Tools are in tha shed, have fun!" So, Benny and Revy found themselves shovels and went to work. Rock went and made the same error of complaining about boredom five minutes later. That got him handed an ax and turned toward the massive five foot tall pile of un-split logs. Dutch was bored out of his mind too and yearned for a job to come along. But in the meantime, he knew better to keep that little tidbit to himself.

. . .

"Well…Ah was plannin' on us goin' to tha movies, but that don' seem like an option to be statin' tha obvious." Ah told Frederica as we stood on tha front porch. Power had been down fer ah week now an' it was Saturday night: Date night.

"That's okay. It's not like…you could have…known the substation…was going to get…blown up." She said. "If you had called that…you should have…bought a lottery…ticket too."

"Very true, very true. Still, Ah feel like we ought to do somethin'…" Ah pondered fer ah moment an' scanned 'round fer inspiration. Runway, burned out car from Lin's boys in the trees, hangar, Corsair, woodpile…hold up. Hmmm…Ah have an idea.

"Say Frederica, how didja git to Roanapur when yah first came here?"

"By boat. I couldn't afford…a plane ticket."

"So you've never flown ah plane?" She shook her head no.

"I've never…even been on one." She added.

"Wanna learn how to fly one?"

"You, you'd teach me?" She asked, lookin' wide-eyed with anticipation an' excitement.

"Sure! C'mon, let's git tha Corsair ready." Ah stepped off tha porch an' started to down tha runway. Ah looked back, she was still on tha porch an' looked ah little more anxious now than excited. She was curlin' her sleeves up into her hands like she did when she was nervous.

"Now?"

"Yeah now. It ain' that bad, yer ah brave girl, you'll do fine." Ah walked back to tha porch an' held out mah hand. "Yah got nothin' to be worryin' 'bout, you can trust me."

. . .

Trust. Now that was a word Frederica Sawyer had heard bandied around like it was nothing to be taken seriously. Trust in the wrong people had gotten her in trouble before, gotten her hurt. Trusting the wrong man had even gotten her voice taken away…and now it was asked of her again. She looked at the hand being held out to her. It was large, almost twice the size of hers. Callouses covered the palm, the bases and pads of long, strong fingers that were powerful enough to bend a steel cotter pin back into shape but clever enough to sew a rip in a mechanic jumpsuit. She followed the hand up its arm to his face, smiling one of those goofy grins that made you want to smile too in spite of yourself. Above the smile were two bright green-brown eyes. She'd gotten a better look at them the last few times they had kissed.

The outer half around the edge of the iris was brown, deep and dark as the earthen soil. The inner halves were green, bright and radiant. Together the colors made for eyes that were friendly, curious and inquisitive; always observing their surroundings and looking for adventure.

'Eyes are supposed to be windows to the soul.' She thought while trying to see if she could glimpse his soul and if it was worthy of trusting. She did not possess the same level of skill Dutch had but was unable to find a reason not to trust him. So, hesitantly but still firmly, she put her hand in his.

. . .

'When Country said he was going to teach me how to fly, he wasn't kidding.' She thought as they walked around the F4U-4 Corsair. Country proved to be a patient instructor and seemed to enjoy her endless questions. It wasn't because she lacked any mechanical prowess; she could take apart and put her beloved chainsaw back together blindfolded. She just knew as much about airplanes as she did the surface of the moon. He led her around the plane, showing and explaining each part and how it worked. She could tell he valued his Corsair and Liberator and cared for them like she did her chainsaw and other tools.

"So let me see…if I understand." She said after their walk around, having finished checking the massive 18-cylinder engine and 13-foot, four bladed prop. "The engine and prop provide thrust…ailerons on…the wings…are for roll…the rudder is for left and right…and the small wings…on the back, the elevators…are for up and down?"

"Right on tha money. An' it stays up how?"

"Black magic." She teased and he shook his head and laughed. "Air goes over the wing…faster than under it…and creates lift."

"Tha's what tha engineers say. So wanna sit in tha hot seat an' git ah feel fer it?" She nodded and he helped her up onto the joint of the bent gull wing. The canopy was open and she dropped down into the cockpit, nearly swallowed by the bucket seat.

"So whaddyah think? Ready to head fer Guadalcanal an' do some ground support?"

"Maybe." She said, scanning the array of gauges in front of her. "I'll have to borrow a phone book…or two." She looked right and left, barely able to see the tips of the wings. "I can't see…over the dash!"

"Can yah reach tha pedals?" He asked as he leaned on the canopy, smiling at how small she looked sitting in the cockpit. She stretched her legs out, straining to feel the rudder pedals. 'Curse my shortness!' She thought; her feet a few inches shy of the pedals. "No…I can't. Maybe I'll…wear some…platform boots….next time?"

"That might jest do tha trick. So yah ready to fly?"

"I think so. What're we…waiting for?" He had her climb back out of the cockpit and he sat down, settling into the seat like it had been custom fitted for him. She stood next to the cockpit on the wing, watching him go through his start-up checklist.

"Rudder pedals…set. Canopy open. Throttle is open, brakes…" He tapped the tops of the rudder pedals. "Set. Prop is clear, Ignition is to START, lights…we don' need 'em…ray-dee-oh is on. Okay, let's git 'er cranked over!" He pushed the start-up button and the plane shook a little under her feet as the starter engaged and the prop began to turn. _CLUNK. Chug…chug…Chug! Chug!_ The prop turned faster, kicking slightly with each burst from the engine. She found herself breathing quickly, her heart was beating excitedly in her chest as the engine finally caught and started with a thundering roar, a cloud of white smoke shot out from the exhaust on the Corsair's belly. The whole plane seemed to be alive; she could feel the vibrations through the soles of her boots and rushing through the tips of her fingers. This machine, this plane, was like her chainsaw, throbbing with a life of its own, an extension of its handler.

"Okie-dokie Frederica! Hop in!" She stepped over the cockpit wall and carefully put her foot down on the seat, trying not to step on his crotch. She turned and sat down on his lap, the control stick between their legs. She tucked hers as closely together as she could so he could still work the rudder. Next the harness, loosed as far as it could go to hold both of them, was secured around her. One buckle went across each shoulder, one on each hip and then…

"Uh, if you'll pardon me fer ah moment…" He said as he reached around her to secure the final buckle between their legs. Unable to see the latch he fumbled for a moment, brushing his hand against her inner thighs.

"You're not…getting any ideas…are you?" She asked, readjusting her position on his lap.

"Oh Ah'm tha perfect gennleman…" He said and with a sharp tug, shortened the slack in the harness tightly against her groin, causing her to let a gasp slip past her lips. "Wouldn' dream of it…" He whispered in her ear and a thrilling shudder that wasn't from the plane crawled up her spine, covering her in goosebumps. "Ready Fredi?"

"Let's see what you…can do…fly boy." He kicked off the brakes and the Corsair began to taxi onto the runway. He swung the tail around and locked the brakes again so he could complete his checklist. "Wings spread an' locked, controls free an' correct, tail hook is…up. Instruments is…good, good, good…" He scanned the gauges with his finger tracing a zig-zag line. "Fuel is full, tail wheel locked, throttle is at one hundred…" He rolled the throttle forward and the noise from the engine went from a low rumble to almost a scream. "Brakes are off…an' away we go…"

The Corsair lurched forward, sprinting down the runway. He leaned left and right the whole way to confirm the alignment with the runway as neither of them could see over the Corsair's nose. Once they were up to speed, he pushed the stick forward to raise the tail off the ground. Then he pulled back slightly and just like that, they were airborne.

The rest of the runway whipped by, the airfield buildings were a blur as the Corsair cleared land and headed over the ocean. Once the landing gear was up, Country made a slow turn to the right and rolled slightly so she could see the airfield. The canopy was still open so she waved at Rock and Revy, watching from the front lawn.

"Oh! Oh God!" She breathed, flushed with adrenaline.

"Havin' fun?" He asked, rolling back and banking left towards the city.

"You get…to do this…for a living?" She asked as they passed a scant 300 feet above The Yellow Flag.

"Yep! It's a hoot ain't it? Hey, let's take ah look at town an' see what there is to see." He rolled the Corsair slightly left so she could see better, applying pressure on the right rudder to prevent any slip. The city of Roanapur was surprisingly busy even with the power down. Most were aimlessly ambling along; bored and looking for something to do that got them out of the house. Many looked up to see the dark blue warplane streak overhead and read the bright white letters of _Sharkmouth Airforce_ on the fuselage and _Lagoon Company_ across the bottom of the wings.

From this height, the city didn't look half bad to her, things improved when you were above it all; 700 feet above it all. Country winged over Balalaika's office, waggling his wings in salute to the head of Hotel Moscow as she relaxed in the back yard. They did a few laps around Chang's beach house. The Triad boss waved from poolside.

"Hey Frederica, yah got yer phone on yah?" He asked as he made a long, slow loop around the north end of the city. She worked it free from her pocket and looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Are you thinking…what I'm thinking?"

"Call 'em up an' see if they're home." She dialed the number for Shenhua's apartment, hoping she would pick up.

"Hello? Who this, who calling, what you want?" Excellent.

"Shenhua, I have…something…really cool…to show you." She said as seriously as she could, elbowing Country so he'd stop laughing, he'd give them away.

"What really cool? Wait, where you at? I thought you on date with Bumpkin?"

"I am. Just step…outside and…I'll show you." Country made an adjustment to their course, snapping hard right so a line of high-rise buildings shielded them from Shenhua's apartment.

"What're you…doing? Now she…can't see us." She asked, covering the phone's mouthpiece.

"These buildin's will cover us until tha last second, then Ah'm gonna go hard left an' we'll come out right over yer place. She won't see us 'till we're right on top of her."

"How high…will we be?"

"Ah'd say 'bout rooftop." He said, grinning with his tongue between his teeth.

"Okay Shenhua…are you outside?"

"Yes yes! I outside but I or Wizard no see you. What trick you pulling girly?"

"Why don't…you look…behind you?" Sawyer said as the Corsair cleared the buildings and Country pushed hard on the left rudder, rolling to the left and pushed the nose down. They cleared the trees in the front lawn of the apartment by about ten feet, sending Shenhua and Lotton back inside, swearing at Sawyer and Country over the phone.

"Sawyer! You and Bumpkin go dinky-dow! Fly too close to sun and melt your brains!"

"C'mon Mizz Shenhua, lighten up!" Country cackled as he pulled up out of his run over the apartment. "It's good cardio, Ah don' think Ah've ever seen you an' Mister Lotton ever move that fast."

"That was not funny." Lotton panted over the phone. "It was quite a reckless stunt."

"Admit it Lotton." Sawyer jeered. "You thought…it was…pretty cool." There was a silence on the other end of the phone.

"Okay, it was pretty cool. Now, I must take my leave and get my heart rate back down to normal." And Lotton ended the call. Sawyer twisted around so she could better talk to Country.

"That was fun. Are we bad…or what?" Dark blue eyes and bright green-brown ones gazed into the other and found the same gleam of impish playfulness.

"Downright dastardly." He smiled and kissed her softly on the lips. "Hey, you wanna try yer hand at tha controls, mah little daredevil?"

"Okay…I think…just for a bit."

"Alrighty, lemme git us up to altitude so we've got some room to play in." He reached behind him and pulled the canopy closed and locked it in place. Then he pulled back on the stick and the Corsair climbed, finally leveling off at 7,000 feet. The entire island could be seen from here, the mainland off to their left and the ocean to their right sparkled a radiant and tantalizing blue.

"Can yah reach tha top of mah boots?" He asked, leveling the plane and throttling down to cruising speed. She put out her legs again and found to her delight she could easily reach the top of his feet. She nodded and tapped his boots with hers. "Right, yah remember what does what?"

"Throttle here…rudder for left and right…stick back and forth…for up and down…and stick left and right…for rolling."

"Seems legit to me. Okay, you have tha controls, it is yer airplane." He took his left hand off the throttle, right hand off the stick and clasped them on her lap, twiddling his thumbs.

"Wait…that's it?" She asked, looking around at all the knobs, gauges, switches and buttons, unsure what to focus on. The stick seemed to hold fairly steady on its own; a slight vibration through the controls made it feel like the Corsair was humming. It seemed that the plane was as laid back and relaxed as its pilot.

"Yep. That's it. Not so bad is it?"

"You're not…doing anything? I'm really flying?"

"Ah'm totally hands free!" He lifted his hands off her lap and wiggled his fingers. "An' Ah'm pretty much dead from tha knees down. Its yer plane, do whatever yah want."

"Whatever I want? That's…wow, that's a lot…to dump on…a girl like that." She readjusted her grip on the stick and her finger found the trigger to the six A/N M2 Browning 0.50 caliber machine guns. 'Hmmm…I wonder?'

"An' 'fore yah git any ideas, tha machine guns don' have any ammo in 'em."

'Drat.' She thought, making a mental note to ask later if she could get some trigger time. 'Well, I might as well try something…' She wondered how hard maneuvers could be. She'd seen him practicing before, looping and twisting through the air almost like it was effortless. She pushed the stick hard left and before she could gasp in surprise, the Corsair rolled and she found herself upside down.

"Tha's one way to start things off." He said, taking the opportunity to look down at Roanapur and admire the view. "It does look lovely from this angle don' it?"

"Okay, now what?" She asked, starting to feel nervous.

"Ah don' know, yer flyin'. Try puttin' us back level fer starters." She rolled the stick to the left again, much slower this time, and completed the roll.

"Woo-hoo! Yer first barrel roll!" He congratulated as she realized she had been holding her breath the whole time they were upside down. "Little slow but ah good start. What're you gonna do now?" She decided to try something a little easier, maybe just climb to 10,000 feet? That would be something to talk about on the ground. She pulled back on the stick; as far back as it would go. The Corsair's nose pitched upwards and the altimeter slowly turned across the gauge. As the plane climbed and she put the nose almost vertical, she could feel him chuckling to himself.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, you is all." He evaded, knowing full well what was coming. "Yah know what yer doin' right?"

"I think so…I'm trying…to get us to…10,000 feet." She explained, pointing at the altimeter.

"Ah-ha, Ah see…but didja check yer airspeed lately?" He reached around her and tapped a gauge. The arrow was quickly sliding towards zero.

"What…what's that mean?" She asked, suddenly feeling uneasy for reasons she couldn't quite identify.

"It means things is gonna git real interestin' right…'bout…now." He said as the airspeed indicator needle hit zero.

"Wait…we're not climbing anymore. What's wrong? What's happening?!"

"Oh you've gone an' done it now."

"Done what?!"

"Stalled us." He explained as the Corsair began to fall backwards and to the right. Her stomach somersaulted and she felt herself being pushed into the harness as the Corsair started to tumble. "Here we go…onward an' downward!"

Panic, definitely panic. That would be the perfect word to describe what she was feeling. The Corsair dropped like a stone, 500 feet…1,000 feet…1,500 feet they fell, careening towards the sapphire blue ocean below.

"Okay! You can fly now!" She cried, letting go of the controls and grabbing a hold of the harness in a terrified death grip. Then, to top everything off, Country's laughter filled the cockpit. "How are you laughing?!" She twisted around to look at him with a petrified face and saucer-wide eyes. "We're falling!"

"Hey now, don' be worryin' yerself into an ulcer, you can fix this." He tried to say in a reassuring voice.

"How?!" She asked, not reassured in the least.

"What do planes need to fly?"

"Lift…"

"Right. We ain't gittin' any lift right now, so if yah git us level…"

"We'll have lift again…and stop falling." She took the controls again and pulled back to complete the slow loop the Corsair had been making. She applied some pressure to his left boot to straighten them out and finally leveled off at 5,000 feet. Now with sufficient lift, the Corsair slipped gracefully through the sky again.

"Let's never…stall out…again." She panted; her heart rate still furious enough to power all the lights in Roanapur.

"What're yah talkin' 'bout? That was fun!" He said, hugging her from behind and planting a kiss on her cheek.

"You're an ass. I thought…we were…gonna die."

"But didja have fun doin' it?" She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him, breathing sharply out her nose. Try as she might, she couldn't hold the look any longer as he smiled back at her.

"Dammit…yes I did!"

. . .

"Ah must say, that's ah right purdy lookin' patch of dirt yah got there." Country said to Revy and Benny as he surveyed the plot they had tilled.

"Thanks Country. It took us a little longer than we thought…" Benny said, rubbing the lump on the back of his head. He and Revy had gotten into a dispute over how to properly till a garden by hand. Benny brought up several articles he had read on ancient cultures and their agricultural practices.

"Really, and what experience do you have with any hard labor?" Revy had asked him.

"Well what do you have?"

"Two years on a Georgia prison farm."

"Oh? And how did they settle disputes there? Whoever had the most teeth?" Revy just scoffed and dug another section of dirt. Thinking he'd won, Benny turned around and _CLANG!_ He took an unplanned nap in the garden.

"That's how we settled arguments in Georgia." Revy said, turning another shovelful of dirt. Country didn't help in making Benny feel better as he just laughed at the story.

"Well, all's left is seeds. Ah was thinkin' of some ginger, basil, garlic, onions, black peppers…tomatoes, corn…bok-choy…potatoes of course…" He turned towards The Twins. "Got any ideas?"

"Some cabbage would be nice." Gretel suggested. "I've really wanted to try making Sarmale."

"That sounds good to me. Ah'll write ah list up an' go tomorrow an' see if tha store's open."

"Hey Country, we could do that…go to the store that is." Hansel suggested.

"Ah dunno. It's awful risky fer you two to be leavin' tha airfield…"

"We haven't been past the gate in months! You get to go places all the time!"

"Well yeah but tha's fer work with tha Liberator or when we're out on tha _Black Lagoon_…"

"But we're boooorrrrrreeeddd!" Gretel tried to back her brother up. "We know how to drive the truck now and the store isn't far."

"Ah know that but…"

"And you said you were driving across Michigan at 14! We're almost 14 and are just going across town." Gretel pointed out, hands defiantly planted on her hips.

"Well Ah wasn't 'sposed to be drivin', didn' have mah license…"

"Pleeeeeeeeeaaase?" They asked, turning up the charm. "We just want to help."

"Oh alright, twisitn' mah arm…Ah'll git tha list written up ah' y'all can go."

. . .

"So you're letting them leave the aifield by themselves?" Rock asked as we watched mah truck pull outta tha gate an' turn left onto tha main road. Tha kids had flipped ah coin to see who'd git to drive first an' Gretel called it. She waved out tha window as they left, her brother in tha shotgun seat.

"Yep. They are really bent on helpin' out an' doin' somethin' on their own fer ah change." Ah said, hopin' Ah hadn't made ah bad call. "'Sides, it ain't like they're babies an' Ah can't treat 'em that way. That an' if there's anyone their age more capable of defendin' themselves, Ah'd sure like to see 'em in action."

"I agree completely." Rock said, sittin' down on tha other end of tha couch on tha porch. "Don't worry yourself too much Country; I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Yeah Ah know. It's jest…"

"You really care about them don't you?"

"…Yeah. They've jest gone through so much in such ah short time. Now that they've got this secon' chance, Ah don't want it to be wasted."

"I understand. We all worry about them, even Revy too. She'll never admit it of course." Ah sat down again to try an' stop from pacin'.

"Ah know y'all worry 'bout them an' they care 'bout you too. Tha's why they mess with everyone, it's 'cause they like yah. Ah'm sure everyone'd go an' Tha Twins is they needed it. Ah sure as hell would, Ah'd turn this city upside down an' burn it down mahself if it would git those kids outta trouble."

"Ha! I'm sure you would."

"Rock." He turned an' saw me, lookin' him square in tha eye. "Ah'm not jokin'."

. . .

"Boss, a truck just left airfield." A Rascal said to Lin over the phone. He and his friends were watching the airfield's gate from The Yellow Flag's parking lot, half a mile up the road.

"Who driving?"

"The kids. No one else in truck."

"Follow them. You know what to do." Three cars started up and crept out of the parking lot. They turned up the road and followed the truck into town.

. . .

"Is that everything Sora-mea?"

"I think so Fratele-meu. We have everything on the list." Gretel double-checked Country's list and stopped in the front aisle. It was filled with candy, cookies, chips and other treats. "How much money will we have left over?"

"I think Country gave us…" Hansel counted out the bills in his hand. "Five dollars extra."

"I was thinking we should get everyone a treat? It's been a week and a half without power, they could use one."

"That and maybe Miss Revy won't be so grumpy if we get her something nice. Now let's see…" The Twins slowly walked down the aisle, picking out snacks for each person's tastes.

"First I think…rock candy for Rock obviously…a jar of peanuts for Benny; he always eats them when he's on his computer."

"Here's a variety pack of jerky." Hansel had found a bag with four types of meat. "Alligator, kangaroo, Sambar and boar. Country's always saying how he'd like to try one of every animal."

"Okay, we'll get that for him. I think Dutch would like these sunflower seeds, what about Revy?"

"Salt and vinegar chips, sailor that she is."

"Of course! Oh, Sawyer would love this black licorice. Shenhua's so vain about her health; she'd probably want something healthy. There's this chunked pineapple; she'll like that. All that's left is Lotton."

"That's easy." Hansel held up a can of mixed nuts.

"Why those?" Gretel asked. Hansel rattled the can and laughed.

"Because he is, you know, mixed nuts."

"Fratele-meu you're mean!" She scolded but thought about it for a moment. "Okay, put them in the basket." They walked up front to pay at the counter, waiting patiently for the clerk who was lost without the register's computer.

"Our total should be…$22.64, with tax it would be $24.00 even." Hansel did the math in his head. "Here's $25." Hansel put the money on the counter and the clerk looked blown away at the display of mental prowess.

"The change is a dollar sir…" Gretel prompted as the clerk tried to figure out where Hansel was hiding a calculator.

"Oh…right. Of course, I knew that."

"And you said Benny's math would never be useful Fratele-meu." Gretel said as they walked outside.

"I guess I proved myself wrong." Hansel admitted. "Wait, who are they?" He nodded towards the group of fifteen men advancing across the parking lot. "They don't look too friendly to me."

"I agree, see the skull on their car doors?"

"Then they're from Mister Lin. Well Sora-mea, think they'll want to play with us?"

"We'll just have to find out." They put down the bags they were carrying and jammed their hands elbow deep into the pockets of their mechanic jumpsuits. The group stopped in the parking lot, ten feet away, seeming unwilling to advance any farther.

"Uh, hey kids." The leader spoke up. "We're supposed to pick you up and bring you to the airfield. Something's happened and Country sent us to get you."

"Let me guess, you have some candy and a puppy in your car too. How stupid do you think we are?" Gretel asked, shifting her feet into a ready stance. "We know exactly who you are."

"Oh yeah?"

"Dobitocii din familia!" *

"Wait, what? Hang on, I don't have to take this shit, get them!" The group rushed The Twins but got more of a fight than they had bargained for. Hansel and Gretel pulled out the COP Derringers they'd been hiding in their deep pockets, two each had been given to them by Country so they'd have something to defend themselves with. _Ka-BLAM! Ka-BLAM!...Ka-BLAM! Ka-BLAM!_ Each derringer had four barrels and four 0.357 magnum shells. The Twins made good use of them too, taking down eight Rascals with two bullets a piece. Out of ammunition, the gunfight turned into a brawl. Hansel threw one of his derringers and it hit a Rascal in the face, shattering his nose. Hansel threw his other gun and it crushed the man's windpipe. Gretel simply reversed her grip on her guns, holding them by the barrels. The first Rascal that got within arm's reach had the butt of a derringer grip smash into his left eye. The eyeball dropped out of socket as the bone around it shattered. The remaining five Rascals were able to subdue The Twins, dragging them kicking and screaming the entire way to the cars. Gretel stomped her right heel on the pavement and a three inch blade deployed from her boot's toe. She then turned to the man on her right and started kicking every inch of him she could reach. The double-edged, serrated blade pierced his thighs, calves, once in his left buttock and finally, the critical hit. With a blood-curdling scream, he dropped to the pavement as the blade pulled loose from his groin.

Hansel took advantage of the distraction and wrenched himself free from his captors. He turned left and leapt onto the man closest to him, holding on by the man's hair and shirt collar. Hansel opened his mouth, vampire-like teeth grinning sharply and bit down as deeply as he could into the man's neck. The Rascal tried to scream but all came out was a gurgle as his throat filled with blood. He tried to push Hansel away but the boy didn't release his grip until the man collapsed to the ground. A Rascal jumped on Hansel from behind, putting him into a suffocating headlock. The other two Rascals had ahold of Gretel's arms and legs and crammed her into the trunk of their car. Hansel was also put into a trunk, the metal buckled upward as he kicked against the wall of his prison.

"What we do about them?" One Rascal pointed at the dead and groaning wounded scattered across the parking lot.

"Leave them!" The lead Rascal yelled as he started his car. "We want to be far away when Lagoon finds out."

"We can't just leave them!"

"You want to deal with Two-Hands and Country by self?! Your funeral!" The other Rascal decided he valued his own skin more than his wounded friends and the two cars fled the hardware store's parking lot.

. . .

"They're late." Country said, looking at his watch and the gate every few seconds.

"It's only fifteen minutes." Rock tried to reassure him. "Maybe traffic's bad?"

"Sure, an' Ah'm tha Queen of France."

"Just give it a little longer." Rock knew something was wrong but he also knew Country's temper. It was mile-long, slow-burning fuse that lead to a 10,000 pound bomb. He'd seen what Level 4 and shuddered to think what Level 5 could be. It was sure to be on par with one of Revy's fits of Whitman Fever and those were considered legendary in Roanapur. So Rock figured he would keep Country as calm as possible for as long as possible.

"Tha does it." Country stood up from the couch and opened up the front door. "It's been half an hour, somethin' ain't right." He took the GTO's keys off the hook inside the house on the wall. "Mizz Revy!" He yelled into the house.

"Yeah?" She yelled back from the kitchen.

"Tha Twins ain't back. You gonna help look fer 'em?" There was a pause and then:

"Be right out."

Benny offered to stay at the house and wait in case The Twins came back. Country started up the GTO and nearly gave Rock and Revy whiplash as they headed for town. They pulled into the hardware store's parking lot, still littered with Rascal bodies. Country slammed his door shut and the Patrolman came out of its holster. He marched over to the first wounded Rascal, the man Hansel had bitten.

"Hey, hey!" He bent over and pulled the man up by his shirt collar, holding him off the ground at knee height. "Tha kids yah fuckers came here fer, where'd yah take 'em?!" The man tried to speak but his throat was too mangled. "Ah'm talkin' to you! It's ah simple fuckin' question, where'd yah take 'em?!"

"He can't talk Country!" Rock said, seeing the man gesturing at his throat. "He won't be able to tell us anything…"

"Then he's useless." Country dropped the man to the pavement and trained the Patrolman on the man's head. The Rascal cried out, putting up his hands to try and shield himself…_Ka-BLAM!_ The bullet shattered his skull, spraying blood, bone and brain across the pavement through the gaping hole blasted out the back of his head.

Country walked slowly through the lot, stepping over Rascal corpses. He found a live body, the one Gretel had clubbed in the eye. He was rolling about in agony, hands clasped to his face. Country put a boot on the man's chest to stop him from moving.

"Okay, yer turn to tell me somethin' useful." He knelt, knee on the man's chest, and pulled the man's hand from his face. "Holy dog shit, yer ugly 'nough to be in tha modern art exhibit an' yer eye ain't helpin' neither."

"Please! It hurts so much, it hurts!" The man yelled, blood pouring from the broken socket.

"Ah'm sure it does but Ah'm all outta shits to give. Now where did yer buddies take those kids?"

"It hurts! It hurts!" The man kept screaming.

"If yah don' knock this squallin' off, Ah'm gonna give yah ah real reason to be bitchin' 'bout pain. Now where did they take those kids?!"

"I'm blind, blind! I can't see, I can't see!" The Rascal shrieked, his good eye rolling madly in its socket as his body convulsed in agony. Country stood and aimed the Patrolman.

"Another fuckin' useless…" _Ka-BLAM! Ka-BLAM!_ One bullet smashed through the Rascal's sternum, crushing his ribcage from the impact. The second bullet was intended for his head but hit his neck instead, ripping half the flesh away and pulverizing the vertebrae into powder. Country turned, surveying the lot for another survivor and spotted the last one. It was the Rascal that Gretel had kicked with her boot knife.

"Look ah-live, it's yer turn!" Country said as he walked over, a tendril of smoke wafting from the Patrolman's barrel. The man saw Country coming his way and reached into his jacket pocket. "Oh no yah don't!" _Ka-BLAM! _He fired and the man's forearm shattered, a concealed Tokarev flew from his hand.

"Please don't shoot me again! Don't shoot, for fuck's sake, don't shoot!" The man held what was left of his right arm up, his left still clasped to the wound on his groin.

"Ah'll think 'bout it. If yah tell me what Ah wanna know, we'll take yah to tha hospital."

"Please, I won't last long, take me to hospital now!" He begged, trying to push himself away from Country with his good leg. As Country interrogated the man, Revy looked on without expression. Country was in charge and she figured she would just stay out of his way. The little twerps had gone and gotten themselves caught, just like Rock always did. As much as she yelled at them and gave them a hard time, she did have to admit The Twins had come a long way since they had shown up at the airfield. She might even go as far to say they had grown on her, not the least in a maternal instinct kind of way, but enough that she wasn't watching their every move with a hand on one of her Cutlasses. That and she thought her life was fucked up…it still was but…damn. Hearing their full story from the source was eye opening. She felt a little bad for them but was also slightly jealous. They had gotten a free go-around and just stumbled into a group of people that looked after them like one of their own. All in all though…

'I guess they aren't so bad.' She thought as she leaned against the GTO with Rock. 'I'm not gonna start tucking them into bed or anything, but I hope they're okay.' She looked over at Rock, he wasn't saying much, just watching Country. 'And I've got you Rock, what do I have to be jealous about?'

_Ka-BLAM!_ Her train of thought was interrupted as Country's patience slipped a few notches and he fired a bullet into the Rascal's leg.

"No, yer gonna tell me first, then tha hospital! Tha's tha artery, you've got five minutes at best so start talkin'!"

"Okay, please don't shoot me again! Our compound, they took them to our compound! It's out past the coal mine, fronted as a farm called 'Black Hollow'."

"Thanks fer bein' useful, thank yah very much." The Patrolman was at Country's side and its cylinder clicked as the hammer was thumbed back.

"Wait, hang on!" The hammer was all the way back and the cylinder brought around to battery. "You, you said I go to hospital if I help!" The Patrolman swung up from Country's side, the barrel was slowly trained on the Rascal's head. He put up his arm to try and stave off the impending shot, an attempt to shield himself. "You promised, you promised!" Country simply shrugged and replied in a flat, hollow voice:

"Ah lied."…_Ka-BLAM!_

. . .

"Damn, it's all mah fault! Should have never let 'em go by themselves!" Ah lamented with mah head in mah hands as we sat 'round tha kitchen table. We'd picked up Hansel an' Gretel's guns, tha grocery bags they had left an' Ah'd brought mah truck back. Good thing Ah always keep ah spare set of keys hidden somewhere on it. Now we were tryin' to figger out what to do.

"It is not your fault Country." Dutch said, tryin' to stop me from beatin' mahself up. "It was a risk but a risk we could not plan against. At least they put up a good fight."

"And we've gone through situations like this before, we'll figure something out." Benny added. "Lin will call soon, I'm sure of it. When he does, we'll have something to work with." Righ on cue, tha phone started ringin'. Ah snagged it off tha wall an' tried to use mah polite society voice.

"Lagoon Comp'ny, this is Country."

"Oh hello Country, I had hoped you answer." Lin's voice crawled through tha phone, oozin' like tha slime he was. "I have two someone's very important to you and you have someone important to me."

"An' who would that be, if Ah may inquire?"

"Why The Doctor of course." Everyone at the table blanched, Lin was assummin' we had Tha Doctor?! We'd met with Eda tha other day but she was still bein' secretive 'bout tha job she had fer us. It was on hiatus because she had to wait until tha power was back on. She said she needed an internet connection to set somethin' up so 'till then we was to wait an' still hadn' confirmed she had Tha Doctor. So Lin thinkin' we had him wasn't good…how to play this…how to play this…best to pass it off.

"Don' know who yer talkin' 'bout."

"Yes you do! Why you lie?!" Lin screeched; Ah could hear him stampin' his feet.

"Hey, if Ah'm lyin', Ah'm dyin'. Now, why don yah jest let tha kids go, they ain' got no part in this."

"No, they only way you take this serious!" Ah could hear angry footsteps an' tha sound of ah door openin'. Lin pushed tha phone into someone's face, their heavy breathin' crackled on tha other end. "Speak!" Lin ordered.

"Du-te draculi!" Gretel yelled.**

"Limp-pula fiu de catea!" Hansel added fer good measure.***

"Arrogant brats!" Line yelled an' started hittin' one of Tha Twins. Ah could hear tha blows, tha screamin', through tha phone. Ah wasn't sure what to do, Ah panicked fer ah moment, mah temper startin' to git tha better of me.

"Hey! Hey! Tha's enough!" Ah yelled, causin' everyone in tha kitchen to jump. Ah was outta mah chair now, pacin' angrily 'round tha room. "Tha's fuckin' enough! Don' you dare even touch them kids again!"

"Where is Doctor Country?"

"Okay, okay, yah got me. We've got him." Rock opened his mouth to tell me tha obvious but Ah shushed him. "We've got Tha Doctor, how 'bout we trade up?"

"I knew you see things my way. How you want to set up?"

"How's 'bout, yah gimme 36 hours to git organized? We moved Tha Doctor outta tha city…"

"That your problem, not mine. You have 24 hour and I being generous."

"Alright, fine." Ah conceded. Ah'd been workin' on an idea in mah head and would have taken as little as 12 hours. 24 was ah God-send. "You got ah number Ah can reach you at, anytime? Yah know, so we can call when we're ready to meet." He gave me his number; Ah jotted it down an' crammed tha paper into mah pocket. "Okay, Ah got it. We'll call ASAP an' we'll set up ah meetin'."

"Very well Country. You and Lagoon make sure not to be late. Every half hour past, I take body part. See you in twenty four."

. . .

Country stood with the phone in hand, down by his leg with the open line tone buzzing. He slowly hung up, the unit rattled as he put it back onto the cradle, his hands were shaking. He leaned his head against the wall, eyes closed and breathing deeply. The room was deathly quiet, the ticking of the clock on the wall was deafening. A minute slowly crawled by and Rock felt obligated to say _something._

"Country, what did Lin…" Country held up his hand to silence him but Rock was determined. "What did Lin say about…"

"Hush now Rock, Ah'm thinkin'."

"He's just trying to help…" Benny came to Rock's defense. He was interrupted by Country's outburst.

"SHUT. UP." He drew back with his left arm and punched the wall, clear through into the hallway. "Fer one minute, will y'all jest…shut…up!" He pulled his fist from the hole, plaster and drywall crumbs fell from the gap, covering his boots in white dust. He stood quietly for a moment, then without any explanation, turned and marched upstairs. His boots thumped heavily on the ceiling above.

"What do we do?" Rock asked as fear welled up in all of them.

"I don't know." Revy said quietly, her face pale. "He's never been this mad before. I think…" She looked up at the ceiling. "I think he's at Level 5."

. . .

M14. Check. Scope. Check. Web belt. Check. Six magazines, twenty rounds each, loaded. Check. Mag pouches fer web belt. Check. Map of tha island. Check. Suspenders fer web belt. Check. Patrolman, loaded. Check. Five Patrolman speedloaders with six rounds each. Check. Huntin' knife. Check. Rifle case. Check. Binoculars. Check. Canteens, two filled with water. Check. Boots. On mah feet. Hat. On mah head. Truck keys. In mah hand. Brass knuckles. In mah pocket. Fury? That'd be in mah heart.

Ah had mah equipment, magazines, belt with canteens an' ammo, an' binoculars in ah duffel bag in mah left hand. Mah right hand had mah M14, its scope an' sling in its case. Ah walked downstairs to find Dutch an' Revy standin' in tha divide 'tween tha kitchen an' livin' room, Benny sittin' on tha edge of the couch…an' Rock? He was standin' right in front of tha door. That was ah bad spot.

. . .

"Rock, will yah please move?" Country asked as all the warmth and laughter vanished from his voice.

"Country, we need to figure out a plan." Rock said, not moving from his spot.

"There is no we. Ah've already got ah plan an' it don' include none ah y'all. Now please. Move."

"I can't let you just go off on some suicide mission. I know you're upset but if we just…"

"Ah'm not askin' yah anymore. Now Ah'm tellin' yah. MOVE." Country swung his rifle case behind his back, slipping the strap onto his shoulder to free up his right hand.

"No, I'm not letting you go walking into a death trap. Please, listen to me and…" Rock didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. Country pulled his revolver and pointed it at Rock's nose. The barrel shook as Country quivered with rage.

"Rock! Ah'm at Level 5! Do you know what that fuckin' means?! Ah'd like to know, 'cause Ah don' know what Ah'm liable to do!" Rock took a step backwards, the person standing before him sure looked like Country, but it…couldn't be him. This person was a leviathan, his height and build towered over Rock, his voice resounded throughout the house, shaking it with every syllable. Rock glanced past the gun barrel and caught a glimpse of Country's eyes. He immediately wished he hadn't.

They were worse than Revy's when she was in a fit of Whitman Fever. While hers had been cruel and sadistic, they still had a light, a sign that she was still conscious, aware and alive inside. In Country's, the light had broken. The usual twinkle of mischievousness, the brightness of adventure, was gone. There was nothing, no light, no sign of life, his eyes looked like they were dead. All Rock could see was darkness, a black, seething fury that was barely being contained. The sight terrified Rock, chilling him to the soul.

"Now. Y'all lissen an' y'all lissen good." Country said slowly, readjusting his grip on the revolver that was still trained on Rock's nose. "This whole thing's mah fault. Ah'm tha one who picked ah fight with Lin. Ah'm tha one who started the feud 'tween us. Ah'm tha one who let tha kids go. Ah'm sorry y'all got dragged along, but Ah'm gonna start cleanin' up mah own mess. Right now Ah'm at Level 5 an' don' quite know what's gonna happen. So, jest stay outta mah way an' don' follow me an' Rock, move yer ass outta tha way 'fore Ah blow yer fuckin' noggin' off, right NOW!" Rock was fairly sure Country was serious and didn't feel like pushing his luck. He slowly side-stepped out of the way to stand next to Revy, leaving the door open. Country holstered his gun and stepped outside, letting the screen door bang shut. Everyone gathered on the front porch to watch him gently stow his rifle in the toolbox, place his equipment bag on the seat and start his truck. The motor started with a deep rumble, roaring as he revved on the gas. He dropped into second and took off for the gate, not looking back at the house once.

"Do we go after him, do we help?" Benny asked, clasping the GTO's keys in his hand.

"No." Dutch said firmly. "I've never seen a look on anyone that fucking scary, even on Revy. I'm not going to risk anyone, he made himself quite clear. This is in Country's hands now."

. . .

It was gittin' dark fast. No power meant no backlight from tha city, no spotlights in tha compound, nothin'. It was only six in tha evenin', Ah had four hours left. Tha compound was decent sized, ah five acre lot. They had all kinds of projects goin' on in there. Ah could see tha fires under their moonshinin' stills, depots fer vehicles, ah lab fer meth, ah lab fer crack, an armory, what looked like ah radio tower an' even ah tent hospital. Lin's boys only seemed to have two or three generators runnin' outside tha hospital, tha radio tower an' one other buildin'. Everythin' else was gonna git covered in night when tha sun went down.

Ah'd been watchin' tha compound fer tha past twelve hours from an abandoned section of tha coal mine. Mah vantage point was 'bout half ah mile out, well within M14 range. Ah'd figgered out where everythin' an' everyone was 'cept fer Tha Twins of course. Ah did have ah purdy good guess though. It was gonna be tha small buildin' with tha two guards constantly out front; where else? Now darkness had fallen, three an' ah half hours left. Ah lifted off tha worn burlap blanket, covered with leaves, sticks an' other foliage Ah'd picked up. Seems mah sniper an' camouflage trainin' from tha militia was payin' off. But now, since tha sun was down, Ah wouldn' be needin' it anymore.

Tha coupound didn' have walls or even ah fence. It jest kinda faded into tha jungle so gittin' in was easy. Ah kept to tha edge of camp, tip-toein' through tha shadows as quietly as Ah could. Ah made it to tha buildin' Tha Twins must be in but couldn' see any other windows or doors. Tha front was poorly lit so that was good. There was just tha two guards to deal with. If this was ah movie or game, Ah'd probably use ah poison dart or some stupid, death-from-above, double knife take-down kill. Yeah…Ah'm not gifted with such finesse.

"Merp." Ah called, usin' tha same sound Ah use to git deer to stop when Ah'm huntin'. It works real well on attractin' hired guns too. They heard me an' started walkin' 'round back. Ah let tha first one go past, tha second' one didn' know what hit him. Eight inches of sharpened steel slid easily down into his throat, nothin' escaped his lips 'cept fer ah gurgle. His buddy turned 'round an' 'fore he could git in so much as 'Why'd yah stab mah buddy?' Ah hit him in tha jaw with mah brass knuckles. He went down immediately; his jaw hung slack an'dislocated far off to his right. Ah brought mah fist down on his throat fer good measure an' felt his windpipe crumple. Ah dragged them to tha bushes, strippin' off their guns an' combat gear. They may be dead, but they could still be useful yet.

Tha door wasn't locked, Dutch had mentioned somethin' once 'bout overconfidence an' imcompetence. It was ah small buildin' with only two rooms. Tha first was an' office an' empty. Tha secon' was ah storeroom that held Tha Twins. They was asleep, held up by tha ropes wrapped 'round them an' their chairs. Both had black eyes, Hansel ah swollen lip an' Gretel had dried blood across her face from nose to chin. Ah woke Hansel first, puttin' mah hand over his mouth so he wouldn' holler. Ah'd painted up mah face, neck an' ears with grease so it wouldn' shine in tha moonlight, so Ah was afraid they wouldn' recognize me. Gretel woke on her own an' both smiled when they worked out who Ah was.

"Country? How did you get here?" Hansel asked as Ah cut 'em free.

"He got in through the door of course." Gretel said, somehow managin' ah joke.

"You two okay, can yah walk?"

"We're fine, we can run if needed."

"Good. Ah have some other things to take care of, y'all remember how Ah taught y'all how to find yer way 'round in tha dark?"

"Yep. Look for the stars, North Star is the brightest." Hansel said as we snuck back outside. "And the moon rises and sets in the east and west, just like the sun."

"Good, what else?"

"Stay off the roads unless we're crossing them; follow them from fifty yards in the woods." Gretel summed up.

"Okay, seems like yah paid 'ttention. Now git home 'fore they notice yer gone."

"What about you?"

"Don' worry 'bout me. Ah'll be home soon, have ah meetin' to git to." To mah surprise, they both put their arms 'round me, huggin' an' squeezin' me tight.

"Thank you Country, for everything." They whispered. "Now you had better come home too, or we'll get everyone and come and find you." Gretel said, tryin' to boss me 'round. Tha nerve of that girl…

"Okay, okay. Now git ah movin' 'fore Ah move yah, go on!" They took off into tha trees, vanishin' into tha dark as they headed fer home. Now, don' let tha little touchy-feely moment fool yah into thinkin' Ah'd calmed down any. Ah jest didn' want Tha Twins to see me like that. Mah blood pressure was still up an' Ah was still seein' red. Yah jest don' come down from ah Level 5 like that. Tha kids was okay an' headed outta harm's way but Ah still was gonna put tha Fear of God intah Mister Lin 'fore tha night was out. He'd crossed ah non-negotiable line. There was no goin' back fer him; no amount of money, Hail Mary's or beggin' fer forgiveness would cover his actions. He was gonna have to suffer tha consequences.

. . .

_Bvvvvvvvvv…Bvvvvvv…_Lin had his phone on vibrate and picked up, flipping it open with a flick of his wrist.

"Who this?"

"It's me, tha Redneck."

"Oh, I wonder when you call. Cut very close, only hour left. I afraid I was going to get out bolt cutters, very good for fingers."

"Go an' try to drink tha ocean dry. Ah've got Tha Doctor, if Ah can pick tha spot, you can pick tha terms."

"Okay, that fair. Where you want?"

"Yah know tha old Jap'nese military train station, tha one with tha coal tower? It's on Route 5 where tha road makes ah ninety-degree turn."

"I know exactly where that is, just down road from me. Now, my terms. I want just you and Doctor, no Lagoon, no Hotel Moscow, no Triad. You and Doctor wait in your truck, stop at turn and wait. We see you there in, half hour?"

"Yah drive ah hard bargain Mister Lin. But, Ah'll be there. Yah better be sure tha kids is with you an' they're not hurt."

"Of course Country, business is business even with thieves. Half hour, I see you." Lin hung up and Chai-son wheeled himself across the office.

"Are we really give Twins back?"

"Did bullet hit you in brain too? Of course not! They stay right where they at. I take squad, we go get Doctor and then put Bumpkin down."

Lin chose a squad of ten men, all armed with AK-47's, Tokarev pistols and years of fighting experience; they were his best fighters. They all climbed into one of their surplus army trucks and headed up the road. Lin took the shotgun seat in the cab for himself and smirked as he imagined all the ways he could kill Country; after torturing him for a week or two of course. The truck's headlights picked out a dark blue '59 Ford F-250, parked alongside the road and facing away from them. Lin's truck stopped on the road, fifty yards away. The moon shone brightly enough they could see two figures in the cab, sitting still as statues.

"Get out of truck!" One Rascal ordered as he trained his AK-47 on the driver.

"Hey, we say get out!" Another added as the squad slowly advanced on the truck with their rifles at the ready.

"This going to take time, you can shut down." Lin said to the truck driver. The man nodded and killed the engine, leaving the keys in the ignition.

The first Rascal made it to the truck, approaching it from behind. He grasped the door handle, springing back as the door swung open. The driver slowly leaned to his left and slipped out of the cab. He tumbled to the ground, landing face first on the dirt road. The Rascal rolled him over and found himself face-to-face with Thai features, a gash in the man's throat, a tattoo on the side of the neck of a skull with a dagger through its mouth, wreathed in flame. The Rascal stood and looked into the cab at the other passenger. He was another dead Rascal soldier, his body propped up with sticks.

"Boss Lin!" The Rascal at the truck whirled around in alarm. "It's a trick!" Lin felt himself go cold with fear. He quickly looked around, where could Country be?! Trees, ditch, coal tower, train station…wait. A flash in the top window of the tower?

. . .

Tha bodies of the guards had proven useful after all. Lin's truck had pulled up right on time. At least tha man was punctual. Ah could see both sections of tha road, the one headin' t'wards town an' tha one leadin' to Lin's compound, so Ah had total coverage. Tha bend in tha road was only two hundred an' fifty yards away. Tha's ah chip shot fer me an' tha M14. Ah was back away from tha window in tha deepest an' darkest corner of tha room. Ah'd found ah table to lay on an' some burlap sacks Ah'd filled with dirt to rest mah rifle on. Ah waited patiently 'till they opened mah truck door. That'd git 'em nice an' scared when they find tha bodies. Ah made mah final adjustments, zeroin' mah scope. There wasn't ah whisper of wind, makin' life easier. Ah settled tha crosshairs on tha head of mah first target. Breathe in…hold…hold…breath out…squeeze, squeeze, squeeze…_BANG!_

. . .

Lin had just…blinked. One second there was a small flash in the top window of the coal tower, he blinked, and the next second the truck driver's head exploded all over the cab. Bright red blood, sharp white skull and grisly grey matter covered Lin's entire left side, sticking to his suit and pants, dripping down his hair and face. The driver's body slumped forward against the steering wheel, held in place by his seat belt.

Lin didn't hear the first shot but heard the second, third, the fourth. Petrified and blinded with fear, the Rascals on the road couldn't think rationally enough to figure out where the shots were coming from. They weren't used to fighting a sniper in the dark, just thugs in alleys and skirmishes with Russian and Triad troops. The first soldier on the road caught a 0.308 bullet to the temple and collapsed in a limp heap. The second was hit in his upper chest in the crux of his collarbones. The third felt the bullet pass through his left shoulder, smash through his spine and blow a ragged hole out through his right shoulder and then felt nothing more.

Lin decided right then and there he wasn't going to play the hero. He was going to get himself out of the killzone; his squad was on their own. He reached over the driver and got the door open. He tried to push the body out but it was still held in place with the seat belt. Lin unbuckled the belt but it got caught on the driver's holster. As he wrestled with the body, the driver's knee bumped the key, turning on the cab lights and the radio. As he did, his last soldier took a bullet and Country's aim shifted to the truck. The windshield shattered at the bullet's impact, throwing shards of glass over Lin, cutting his hands and arms as he shielded his face. He turned to get out of the car and spun the radio's volume knob to full blast when he bumped it with his leg. The DJ's voice boomed through the jungle as he started the nightly broadcast.

"Good evening and this is RCR, Roanapur Classic Rock. We just had our generator topped off with fuel so we can keep bringing you news updates and of course, the best of the 50's, 60's and 70's. Tonight we are resuming our artist's portrait, this week we're featuring Creedence Clearwater Revival. We'll start things off with a song from their 1970 album 'Cosmo's Factory'. This haunting tune is perfect for a dark night like this. It's called 'Run Through the Jungle', enjoy."

As the opening guitar eerily echoed through the woods, Lin crouched next to the truck, trying to figure out what to do next. His mind couldn't focus, all he was hearing was fight or flight. He chose flight.

_Whoa, thought it was a nightmare, Lord it was so true…_

_They told me don't go walkin' slow, Devil's on the loose…_

_Better run through The Jungle…Better run through The Jungle…_

_Th-WHACK!...BANG!_ A bullet tunneled through Lin's right shoulder, boring a hole through his shoulder blade and slamming him face-first into the road. Spitting dirt and rocks from his mouth, he staggered to his feet. He kept running, heading for what he thought was the safety of the trees. The music followed him into the woods.

_Whoa don't look back to see…_

_Thought I heard ah rumblin', callin' to my name…_

_Two hundred million guns are loaded; Satan cries "Take aim!"_

_Cr-ACK!...BANG! _Lin had stopped inside the jungle, trying to catch his breath. Letting his men do his dirty work, two-packs of cigarettes a day, a few other choice drugs and eating the finest food Roanapur had to offer had left him woefully out of shape. He steeled himself and looked down at his second wound. A bullet had struck him from _in front of him_ and his left knee now wouldn't take his weight. Blood and small chunks of cartilage poured from the ragged hole.

'How did he get ahead of me?!' Lin thought; losing direction in the woods as panic took root. "He's…he's not, how did he find me in woods?" He wondered out loud. Then his phone rang. "H-hello?"

"Ah found yah in tha woods 'cause yah speak, walk an' breathe so loud. While yah may be ah big man in tha city, whuppin' up on people who can't fight back…you ain't in tha city no more. Yer in tha Deep Boonies now, in mah world. An', if Ah was you, Ah'd take Mister Fogerty's advice an' keep on runnin'…" _Click._ The call ended.

_Over on the mountain, thunder magic spoke…_

_Let the People know my wisdom, fill the land with smoke…_

_Better run through The Jungle…_

Lin ran the best he could, hobbling on his crippled leg. He had gotten so turned around he didn't even know which way was up anymore. He followed the only source of guidance he could perceive, the radio. He stumbled back onto the road, maybe he could get to Country's truck…

_Th-WHAP!...BANG!_ A third bullet struck his other shoulder, nearly separating his arm from his body. The socket was destroyed, held together only by skin and sinew. The impact knocked him down again onto his stomach and he decided this time he would stay down. Maybe Country would think he was dead and leave him. He could hear footsteps approaching; gravel ground under steady, deliberate boots. He turned his head slightly and the bodies of his men filled his vision. A pair of steel-toes appeared next to one Rascal who was rasping from a lung wound. _Ka-BLAM!_ The rasping stopped.

_Crunch...crunch…crunch…crunch…_the boots drew closer. Another Rascal who had been shot twice, once in the hips and once in the neck, raised a trembling arm in protest. _Ka-BLAM! _The arm fell slack to the road.

_Crunch…crunch…crunch…crunch…_the boots drew closer still. They stopped next to a Rascal that was paralyzed from the bullet to his spine; the sound of his breath was his only sign of life. _Ka-BLAM! _The man suffered no more.

_Crunch…crunch…crunch…crunch…_the boots were beside Lin now.

"You alive?" Lin lay as still as possible, breathing as little as needed and praying Country couldn't hear his heartbeat.

"Ahem. Ah asked you ah question. You alive?" Again Lin did his best to imitate a corpse. He heard Country sigh, growling deeply in his throat with annoyance and then felt immense pain erupting from his left knee. Country had taken his heel and was practically standing on Lin's shattered knee. He twisted his heel in such a way that ground and mashed the bones against each other. Lin could not keep silent anymore and screamed, crying out in pain. As he did, the pressure on his knee lifted.

"Tha's better. Simple 'yes' wouldah been easier. Don' go nowhere, Ah'll be right back." Country walked over to his truck, out of Lin's line of sight. He head a door open, some rummaging and then the door slammed shut. _Crunch…crunch…clank…crunch…clink…crunch…clank…_Lin saw the boots return, a length of logging chain dragged through the dirt alongside them. The chain was dropped into a coil next to Lin, rattling as the links knocked against each other. Country ran two plastic zip ties through one link of the chain and secured them around Lin's ankles, binding his feet together. Two more zip ties went through the chain and those went around his wrists. Country backed his truck up, dropped the tailgate and picked Lin up by the chain to load him into the truck bed.

"Ah'd letcha ride in tha cab, but Ah don' wanna git yer…yuck…all over tha seat. Hope yer comfy, roads can git ah bit bumpy." Country slammed the tailgate closed and started the truck. They headed for town.

As the truck sped along, Lin managed to reach the small penknife in his pocket. After cutting his hands a few times, he managed to slice through the zip ties around his wrists. He then freed his legs and plotted what to do next. The truck was slowing, stopping on the bridge at the city limits. Country got out and started walking around the truck. Lin knew his penknife was no good, but if he could club Country with the chain, he might stand a chance. Lin wrapped the chain around his right arm, the only one he could still move. He hoped that by wrapping the chain around his arm, Country wouldn't be able to take away his only weapon. With the chain secure, he lay in the truck bed and waited.

The suspension of the truck shifted as it took Country's weight while he climbed over the tailgate. Lin sat up and swung the chain at Country who saw it coming a mile away. He intercepted the chain, coiling it around his own left arm. He used it to pull Lin up, his legs the only part of him touching the metal. His arm felt like it was on fire, flames of pain radiated from the wound in his shoulder. Country reached into his pocket and brass knuckles glinted in the moonlight.

_CRUNCH!_ The first blow and second, third…fourth, landed on Lin's right shoulder. It was still wrapped in the chain and the only thing holding his weight. With the sixth blow, his humerus broke along its length, splintering while the chain pulled it from a shattered socket. Once his arm went limp, Country released the chain and Lin dropped to the truck bed.

"Any more bright ideas?" It wasn't a question, but a challenge.

"Fuck you inbred! You may kill me but my men loyal after my death. They will hunt you, hunt Lagoon down one by one. Once they kill them, Dutch, Two-Hands, Benny and Rock, they find some use for your two little bastards. Maybe they learn to like being fuck toys…" Lin didn't get to finish what would be his last words. Country roared with rage and brought his fist down onto Lin's face, brass knuckles leading the way. Blow after blow rained down onto Lin's face, shattering his nose, caving in his left cheek, rupturing his left eye with a burst of blood and fluid when his zygomatic arch could no longer hold. His left lower jawbone fractured along its length, the bone popped free of its socket and smashed into the roof of his mouth. Nine teeth were broken free from their roots; Lin could feel the shards cutting his gums, and a few even slipped down his throat.

Finally, the onslaught ceased. Lin had lost count after seven punches. He swam in and out of consciousness, his remaining vision blurry. Country wiped the brass knuckles on Lin's coat and slipped them back into his pocket. Country also took the pocket kerchief from Lin's coat and used it to clean the gore from his right hand.

"Ah wadn' plannin' on doin' that yah know…" Country said, wadding up the kerchief and tucking it back into Lin's coat. "But yah jest can' talk 'bout mah family like tha an' not have me git ah little upset." He drew his knife and stepped over Lin, up onto the toolbox and then the roof of the cab. "Ah know they ain' mah biological relatives, but they's close 'nough, after all they've done fer me." He started cutting something from the bridge with his knife. "Anyhow, all Ah wanted to do is pick up somethin' last minute, not rearrange yer mug. But, it is what it is." He dropped back into the truck bed and re-secured the logging chain. The bindings on Lin's wrists and ankles were so tight the ties cut into his skin and blood dripped from his fingers.

"Here's tha last piece of tha puzzle, reflect on it with tha time yah got left." Country said, tossing something into the truck bed as he slammed his door shut and restarted the truck. Lin slowly rolled on his side and turned his head to look. He couldn't scream properly but a mangled cry got out as he realized what Country had cut down from the bridge's superstructure: A six foot length of rope, tied neatly into an adjustable loop at the end…

. . .

"Oh, the power's back on!" Benny said as the lights flickered on. He walked from the kitchen and into the living room. Dutch, Rock and Revy were all sitting quietly, trying to read while they waited for Country to come back. The Twins had made it back at nine the night before, exhausted and covered with dirt, leaves and sticks. They had said that Country had found them and sent them home but didn't know what he was doing or where he'd gone. Rock had helped them get into bed and they were still asleep.

"So it looks like Country still hasn't made it back yet?" Benny looked out the side window at the driveway and saw just the GTO.

"Nope, not yet." Revy said, putting down her book and picking up the TV remote. "It's six, time for the news, maybe he'll be the headliner." She turned on the TV and flipped channels until she found a news station. They were doing a live special alert report from downtown.

"This is Channel Five News, live to you this morning with a special report from downtown Roanapur. The body of Sunan Lin, head of a local gang calling themselves the Roanapur Rascals, was found hanging from a traffic light at the intersection of Main Street and Sam Pam Boulevard. His body was found by an early morning jogger at five thirty." The camera panned over to where police were trying to keep a crowd of reporters and the morbidly curious at bay. "Initial police autopsy at the scene states that Lin was wounded three times, non-fatally, by gunfire. Then, officials say he was violently and repeatedly struck in the head with either a blunt instrument or possibly brass knuckles. Finally, Lin was shackled with a logging chain and hung by the neck. An officer we interviewed under the condition of anonymity said quote:

'Whoever hung Lin didn't do a good job. A good hangman will break the hangee's neck with proper positioning of the rope and the right drop height. Whoever did this left Lin to strangle, probably took him a good, oh, fifteen minutes to die.'End quote." The reporter paused, giving everyone a chance to look up from the TV and around at each other. They sat silently, unable to find words to even begin describing how any of them felt about this new information. The reporter began talking again and they redirected their attention to the TV.

"Police also say there was a cardboard placard that was attached with zip ties to Lin's feet. They have agreed to release a photograph of it to us in hopes someone might be able to make sense of it or connect it to the culprits. Here it is now."

A large chunk of cardboard appeared on the screen, drizzled with droplets of Lin's blood. Written with a black marker in a firm and steady hand was…

"A Shakespearean sonnet?" Rock said as he read the words. "That's strange."

"Country wrote it though, no doubt about that." Dutch said. The reporter then said:

"For those listening to us on our radio broadcast, I will read the message aloud:

**Hi, my name is Mr. Lin**

**Perhaps you have heard of me?**

**I liked to beat children. **

**Hell, I even laughed and thought it silly.**

**My gang is the Roanapur Rascals.**

**We pretend we are really tough,**

**And like to boast The Devil calls us pals**

**But we're really cowards when things get rough.**

**So take from me this warning, **

**In your hearts, let there be no doubt**

**That it could be you up here hanging**

**And find out what suffering is really all about.**

**Rascals! If you have not learned to fear Lagoon Company,**

**Then may God Almighty have mercy on thee.**

The reporter read the entire message and shivered in mock fright. "That sounds pretty ominous to me! The police have stated they are investigating the mentioned Lagoon Company but no leads have turned up yet. That's all this reporter has for now. Next is another developing story, thirteen bodies and an army truck on a jungle road were also found this morning. They were all members of Roanapur Rascals; could they be connected to the murder of Sunan Lin? More details after these messages." _P-tew! _Revy turned off the TV and tossed the remote onto the table.

"Ho…lee…shit. I knew he was pissed off but fuck…" She said, still staring at the blank screen.

"So that was a Level 5 mad?" Dutch asked, mentally going over the message Country had left. Then there was the sound of crunching gravel and a V-8 engine.

"Well he's back." Benny checked out the window again and saw the blue Ford in the driveway. "I guess we'll find out."

. . .

* * *

First, translation notes:

*The moron in the family. (Romanian)

**Go fuck yourself! (Romanian)

***Limp-dick son of a bitch! (Romanian)

If you like the footnotes better than me just having the translation in the text, let me know. If you don't like it, let me know too. Now the big question, what did you think of this chapter? I wanted to do something fun with the Corsair, Country and Sawyer that didn't involve blowing something up; just two kids on a Saturday afternoon date. Also, I had been thinking for a while what Country would be like when he hit Level 5 Mad. (Of course it would be a matter of when, not if!) My roommate likes to hear me proofread and his words were: "Damn dude, Country went nuts in this one!" So let me know what you thought of this chapter, any input is appreciated!


	16. Chapter 16

This chapter was one I wanted to do for a while, just couldn't figure out how to work it in. But, I finally pulled it off! The B-24J _Roanapur Raider_ not being used as a cargo plane or transport, but for its true purpose. Enjoy the destruction boys and girls.

* * *

. . .

"Mornin' all." Country said curtly as he walked inside the house. His face was half covered with grease and flecks of red, his boots, shirt and arms were splashed with blood. He still wore his combat equipment: the M14 magazine pouches, web belt, suspenders and the case for his binoculars. He hefted his rifle case and duffle bag and walked upstairs to stow everything in his room. He came back down, went to the kitchen and started washing his face and arms in the deep sink.

"Had a busy night did we?" Revy asked, knocking a pack of cigarettes on her palm.

"Yep. Mister Lin an' Ah had ah talkin'-to. Didn' go so well fer him."

"We heard; it's all over the news." Dutch informed him. "You made the headline."

"Did Ah now?" Country opened the fridge and got out a box of leftover pizza. He folded two slices over each other into a pizza sandwich and stood in the divide between the kitchen and living room, eating. He had pizza in one hand, the box in the other and kept his silence unless spoken to.

"Shot him three times?" Revy asked opening the pack.

"Uh-huh." Bite of pizza sandwich.

"Bashed his face in?" A cigarette slid out of the pack.

"In brass knuckles we trust." Bite of pizza sandwich.

"Strung him up?" She put the cigarette in her mouth and flicked open her Zippo.

"In tha city fer all to see." He finished his first pizza sandwich and licked the crumbs from his fingers.

"Heh." Revy scoffed as she lit her Zippo. "Amateur." She lit up and took a pull. "That's what I would call a 'good start'. You should have let me have at him." She blew out a cloud of smoke and looked at Country almost like she was disappointed. Normally Country didn't like smoking in his house, but that day it didn't seem like he cared.

"Ah'll remember tha next time." He opened the box again and made himself another pizza sandwich.

"You're still mad aren't you?" Rock asked warily, the image of Country's dead eyes still on his mind. Some light was returning but they had not quite gotten back to as they were before.

"Livid. Jest, more…focused. Ah'm sorry 'bout tha whole gun in yer face thing. Ah forgot mahself, talk 'bout embarrassin'."

"Don't worry too much about it. It's not the first time that's happened to me." He said, nudging Revy who just bonked him lightly on the head.

"I take that as you're not through yet?" Dutch asked as he gave Country one of his trademark stares.

"Nope. Ah still got half ah promise to fulfill. Ah told 'em Ah'd git Lin an' wipe their organization off tha face of tha Earth, Ah'm halfway done." Dutch was rolling that statement around his mind when The Twins came downstairs. Between yawns they sleepily wished everyone a good morning and received quiet good mornings from everyone in return. Their eyes were still black and blue, Hansel's lip was badly swollen and Gretel had three cotton balls jammed into her nose to stem any bleeding. They asked Country if they could have the last of the eggs for breakfast. He told them to have at it and shredded cheese was in the fridge if they wanted omlettes.

Dutch had taken a liking to The Twins since they had started living with Lagoon. He'd brought them out on the _Black Lagoon_ a few times; they were fascinated with the ocean. He'd taught them how to navigate with nautical charts, care of the PT boat and even how to pilot the craft. They were quick to learn, like they were in everything else, and would someday make fine sailors. Hell, he'd even fished with them off the stern when work was slow. He wondered to himself why he did it, why he had taken the gamble of letting them stay. Maybe he was trying to make up for the first time they had passed through his life? Perhaps it was some sort of penance for Vietnam? 'No, you're not supposed to think about that.' He mentally chided himself. But he understood why Country had done what he did, taking his wrath out on a pitiful excuse of a man who kidnapped and beat children. Dutch had told Country to keep his temper in check, but this was certainly an exception. Lin had gotten exactly what was coming to him and Dutch agreed with Revy, the man had gotten off easy. There were a few things he would have liked to done to the slime before Country put that noose went around Lin's neck but it was too late now. All that could be done was to plan ahead, figure out what to do next and find out a few things.

"Country, I just want to ask three questions and I'd better get answers too."

"Go right ah-head Boss. Fire away."

"First. Have you calmed down enough that you aren't going to point that Patrolman at any of us? We're on your side you know."

"Yessir. Ah'm still at Level 5 but ain' seein' red like Ah was. Ah won' be pointin' mah gun at none of y'all again."

"Good. Second, do you have a plan of what you're going to do next?"

"Tha beginnin's of one. Ah'd say…ten percent of one. What's yer third?"

"How can we help?" For the first time in the past two days, a smile started to break out across Country's face. Rock saw the gleam return to his eyes, the spark of shenanigans was back.

"Ah thought yah'd never ask."

. . .

"Okay, so Ah was out an' about last night after mah meetin' with Lin. Did ah lot of scoutin' an' figgered out where all their little hidey-holes are." We'd gathered 'round tha kitchen table where Ah'd lain out mah map of tha island. "Now, tha late Mister Lin's compound is here." Ah snagged Benny's jar of shelled peanuts an' used 'em fer markers, puttin' ah peanut on tha compound.

"Let me guess, that's not the only facilty they have?" Rock asked. How very astute of yah Rock, Ah toldja he pays attention.

"Tha Rascals got quite tha spread but Ah think Ah've found everythin'. Right now they's scared an' leaderless. If they didn' know Lin was dead last night, they sure's hell know now. We can take advantage of that an' put 'em outta business fer good."

"How do we do that though?" Benny asked. "There's only us, maybe Shenhua, Sawyer and Lotton. There's supposed to be 500 of them right?"

"Right, but they's spread out see?" Ah shook out some peanuts into mah hand. "They have marijuana fields here…" Peanut on map. "Poppy fields here…" Peanut. "They own ah fuel depot fer all their vehicles an' sell gas outta it too, here…" Peanut. "An' finally, their warehouse to squirrel away all their ill-gotten gains." Last peanut.

"That's all nice Bumpkin, but what're you getting at?" Revy asked as she surveyed tha map. "I've seen their fields before. They're massive and guard them like it is green gold. I mean, I'm always up for a fight but I don't see how we can physically kill five _hundred_ of them on our own." That was an intrestin' thing to hear from Revy, normally she'd be halfway 'cross tha island by now, screamin' bloody murder with Cutlasses drawn. Perhaps she was usin' her noggin' fer more than ah hat-rack these days? Oh will tha miracles ever cease?

"Surely yah don' mean 487? Ah got 13 of 'em last night." Ah pointed out. Hey, 13 less we gotta deal with. It was ah start.

"So that's the ten percent of your plan then?" Dutch was rubbin' his head again. Tha magic genie still didn' pop outta his ear to grant him three wishes. "Balalaika and Chang are still kind of jaded with us at the moment because of the lab. I could talk with them but probably won't be able to get anything out of them anytime soon and time is of the essence here…"

"I don't think that'll be necessary." Rock was havin' one of his 'Ah-ha!' moments. "When fighting a war, you don't have to kill the entire enemy force. You have to destroy their means to make war. You destroy their factories; deprive them of resources, sources of power and income, their bases of operations." He paused as ah funny look crept over his face. It looked like tha face of ah gambler, someone who gits their thrills from rollin' tha dice while goin' all in. It was one Ah'd never seen 'fore on him. This was ah different Rock in tha same body.

"So, we don't have to take out all the soldiers. We get rid of their drug fields, their fuel, warehouse and compound. Then the Roanapur Rascals will cease to exist as an organization and their ranks will scatter to the winds." He concluded.

"Annnnnd…" Benny interrupted Rock's moment of drama. "How do we do that? I'm sure the, what was it, 487 Rascals might have something to say about that." Tha look on Rock's face started to fade away.

"That…I don't know." Rock went from on top to right back down 'gain in record time. "Hmmm…how do you raze an organization to the ground?"

"Raze…tha can mean like burnin' it down right?"

"Well sure, that's one way to put it. You have the other ninety percent of an idea don't you?"

"Yeah, Ah got tha rest of an' idea but we're gonna need some supplies to make it work."

. . .

"Sixteen 55-gallon oil drums?" Rock asked, lookin' terribly confused.

"A truckful of…styrofoam?" Benny sounded skeptical.

"160 pounds of TNT and contact fuses?" Dutch looked up from tha list an' asked if Ah'd gone insane.

"Yep, contact fuses. An' make sure yah git them really sensitive ones." Ah told Dutch as we walked outside. "Like, puttin' one on tha table an' whackin' it with ah hammer should set it off."

"Wait a minute…I know what you're getting at here." Dutch started grinnin' as he figgered it out. He looked over at mah shoulder at tha B-24J in tha hangar, puttin' two an' two together. "I'm picking up what you're laying down and I like it. Rock, Revy. Go to the docks, you should find plenty of oil drums no problem. Benny, after you drop me off at the Ripoff Church, go to U.G. Pork. They'll have pallets of styrofoam they use for packaging and shipping. Find Miss Sawyer and get her to load as many pallets as possible into a truck. I'll get the rest from The Church. Country…"

"Yeah Boss?"

"Get the _Roanapur Raider_ ready for combat."

"Yessir! Kids!" Ah turned an' started runnin' to tha house to find mah two best ground crew assistants. "Kids, bring me tha finest of tha linked fiddy cal! There's gonna be an air raid in Roanapur!"

. . .

Rock an' Revy made it back first. They'd borrowed tha truck an' came back with two pyramids of barrels strapped down with rope. Benny led ah U.G. Pork truck through tha gate loaded with twelve pallets of styrofoam from Frederica. He said she was ah tad confused when he asked fer styrofoam. But she went 'long with it when he mentioned it was _somehow_ gonna take down tha Rascals. He also mentioned Ah had ah hug an' kiss waitin' fer me but Ah'd haftah go pick them up mahself.

Dutch came back ridin' in one of tha Church's trucks with Rico. He'd gotten tha TNT an' tha fuses but some extra materials too. He'd bought tha entire stock of soap flakes from tha store an' also picked up some wooden paddles that'd be perfect fer stirrin'.

"Soap flakes Dutch?" Ah asked as we unloaded tha trucks. Ah had everyone consolidatin' our materials over by tha twin 5,000 gallon fuel tanks 'tween Hangar 1 an' Hangar 2.

"Yeah, when we made this stuff back in 'Nam, we didn't always have styrofoam and found soap flakes work as well. They're just in case we don't have enough foam."

"I still don't know what we're making. The explosives make sense, but the rest?" Rock didn' look convinced of tha master plan.

"Isn't it obvious Rock?" Revy smiled one of her skull-like grins. "Oil drums, styrofoam, soap flakes, aviation fuel…" She started rollin' ah barrel over to tha fuelin' station. "We're making napalm."

. . .

"Did you see the news this morning?" Chang asked Balalaika as they watched the sunrise over the ocean. Pinks, yellows, purples and reds splashed across the sky and water; the motion of the waves made it appear that the sea was on fire.

"Yes I did." Balalaika lit a morning cigar, tossing the cut end-cap off the dock into the water. "It looks like Country had a fit of, oh, what does Dutch call it?"

"Whitman Fever?"

"That's the one. I wonder what caused it."

"Who knows, but I don't think it was Whitman Fever. That's well, was, Revy's thing."

"What's the difference? And what do you mean by was?"

"Well, Whitman Fever was Revy going nuts almost for the sake of going nuts. She'd be like a bull in a china shop, destroying anything and everything. Country and his Five Levels of Mad are focused, directed at a single person or thing. That and it's for a reason, like Lin blowing up Lagoon's apartments and office. Something must've happened to push him over."

"Whatever it was, it produced a dead Mr. Lin and that's something to be glad about." She yawned, getting up at this early hour was something she hadn't done in a while. An advantage of being the boss meant you could set your own schedule. "What about Two-Hands? You mentioned her?"

"Yeah, she's…different lately. Calmer, like, the screws in her head aren't as loose as they used to be."

"Well you do know she and Rock are a thing now."

"What, really?!" Chang nearly swallowed his cigarette. "How long has that been going on?!"

"Months. And you say you can read people. Tsk tsk." She playfully chided.

"How did you find out?"

"It's quite simple really. Country saw something, and told Dutch, who told Eda, who blabbed to Bao. He told Ronny the Jaws, who mentioned it to Richie Leroy and he of course told Praiyachat. He told Private Sokolov and Corporal Rurik, who told Sergeant Boris, who told me."

"Roanapur's Rumor Mill at work. Who needs the press when you have word of mouth?"

"Mmm-hmm." She agreed, having another pull on her cigar and staring out to sea. The pair sat silently for a minute, just listening to the waves against the dock pilings.

"It's a good thing no one's seen us meeting up like this…" Chang interrupted the quiet. "Who knows what the rumor mill might churn out?"

"What're you getting at?"

"The way things get twisted around, people might say we're seeing each other or something." He said in what sounded like an almost serious tone, hidden behind his sunglasses.

"You and your delusions of grandeur…" Said said, hoping the rising sun would cover the color in her cheeks.

. . .

"This's tha way we stir tha 'palm, stir tha 'palm, stir tha 'palm…this's tha way we stir tha 'palm, so early in tha mornin'!" Country sang as he, Rock and Revy stirred their barrels of aviation fuel, styrofoam and soap flakes. The Twins were adding in blocks of foam and flakes so the fuel thickened and congealed into an almost gelatinous blob that reminded Rock of jello. Benny was inside the hangar, well away from the fuel station. He was welding basic sheet metal guide fins onto the empty drums. Dutch was sealing the filled drums and making sure there were no leaks. He was also attaching ten pounds of TNT onto the lids of the barrels and securing the fuses into the block of explosives.

"You doing okay over there Bumpkin?" Revy asked as Country sang and hummed while they stirred. "I think you've huffed too many fumes."

"But Ah love tha smell of napalm in tha mornin'!" He cheerily explained. "Smells like victory!"

"So how do I know when it's done?" Rock asked, feeling slightly light-headed from the fumes himself.

"When it looks like this." Revy pulled her paddle out of her barrel, napalm slowly dripping from it in long, sticky tendrils. "This shit'll stick to anything and everything. Metal, wood, cloth, skin…" She plunged the paddle back into the mix as Hansel and Gretel added an armful of styrofoam and a box of soap flakes.

"That an' it'll burn hotter than Hell in summertime an' longer than it takes to read 'War an' Peace'." Country added, sliding his completed barrel over to Dutch. He picked up another empty barrel from Benny and began whistling 'When Johnny comes Marching Home' as he filled the barrel with fuel. For some reason, the tune struck a cord with Rock. He felt like he'd heard it before but couldn't quite place where. He looked up from his barrel to see Country smiling like he always did.

"You feeling better Country?"

"Yep! Work, hard work, is tha best way to git tha anger outta yer system. 'Sides, everythin' in perspective, what do Ah have to be mad 'bout now? Tha kids is safe, Lin's on ice an' Ah got four good friends helpin' me make napalm to go an' bomb drug fields…how can Ah _NOT_ be happy?!"

. . .

"It's eight in the fuckin' morning you damn tweeker!" Bao yelled with his Remington 1100 in hand. "Get the hell out! I'm closed!" He had done his morning sweep of the bar to see who all was left. There was always at least one passed out in a corner, asleep under a table or still tripping balls in the bathroom with a syringe in their arm. This morning it was that junky Tou Chi; sprawled out on the bathroom floor. Bao used his shotgun to make his point known; he'd been running the bar long enough to know the only constant thing about junkies was their unpredictability.

Bao sat down on the front stoop to have a morning cigarette and enjoy the quiet for a moment. He looked left, down the road at the airfield. There was a lot of activity going on at there this morning. Rock and Revy had come and gone in Country's truck with oil drums in the bed. Benny and Dutch had too in their GTO. Benny came back leading a U.G. Pork truck and Dutch riding in a truck from the Ripoff Church. What those kids were doing this early in the morning was anyone's guess; they were always up to something. Through a gap in the trees, Bao could just glimpse the runway and one of the hangars. The doors were open and that four engine plane was taxiing to the runway.

'Things in the past few months sure have been interesting, to say the least.' He thought, watching Lagoon as the loaded something into the plane. 'First Country arrives in that World War Two relic and starts a fight in my bar…on his first day! Well, he does work for Lagoon, that's to be expected.' Bao started on cigarette number two. 'Then there were two shootouts at the runway, Lagoon blowing up buildings in town, the Triad and Hotel Moscow are rumored to be working together…Lin's found hanging from a traffic light…Rock and Revy are finally fuckin', called that a mile away. This town is going dien cai dao.' He cradled his shotgun in his arms and stood up. He had a long morning of cleaning up the usual mess from the night but at least he had a nap to look forward to. He was about to head inside when he heard the rumble of four radial engines. He turned to see that B-24J take off, circle around and fly over his bar. Under the cockpit windows was painted "_Roanapur Raider_", a shark's mouth grinned toothily down at him, the black and white eye peered menacingly, and the block white letters of "_Lagoon Company_" on the underside of the wings left no doubt as to the nature of the crew.

Bao noticed the plane was a little slower and lower than usual, must be carrying something. He went back inside and hoped for a boring day. As long as Lagoon didn't do something stupid like burn the island down that didn't sound like too much to ask.

. . .

"Okay Benny an' Revy. Head on back to yer turrets an' arm tha fuses 'long tha way." Ah ordered as we got up to altitude. Ah was takin' us up to 5,000 feet so tha Rascals on tha ground wouldn' hear us comin' an' would be hard pressed to shoot back if they did. Tha max bomb load fer ah B-24J is 8,000 pounds or sixteen 500-pound bombs. Ours didn' weigh quite that much, but all tha bomb racks were full. Each barrel had four rhomboidal shaped fins made of 1/8 inch plate. Benny had welded them to tha bottom of tha barrels at 12, 3, 6 an' 9 o'clock. On top of tha barrel was tha ten pounds of TNT with tha four inch contact fuse in tha middle of tha block. We'd also put some extra steel plate on tha fuse end of tha barrels to weigh that end so it'd fall fuse first. So, tha idea was: bomb falls, fins keep it some-what stable, TNT an' weight keeps it nose down, TNT goes off, throws napalm everywhere an' tha explosion lights of tha napalm…simple right?

As Revy an' Benny headed fer tha Ball an' Tail respectively, they pulled tha pins outta tha fuses to arm them. Revy got settled in tha ball an' Benny lowered her down 'fore sittin' in his station. Ah called 'em on tha intercom fer ah status report. Bombs armed, turrets ready, guns…_Thump! Thump!...Thump! Thump!_ Both fired ah test burst out to sea. Dutch an' Rock checked theirs an' reported Top an' Nose turrets ready.

"Okay Rock, yer gonna be Johnny-on-tha-spot." Ah called him on tha intercom. "Under yer butt is tha bomb-sight, git on it an' Ah'll walk yah through settin' it up."

. . .

Rock climbed backwards out of the Nose turret and lay on his stomach, the bomb-sight in front of him. He felt the plane roll right and pull back, heading back over the island out of the west. Once level, Country started walking Rock through the bomb-sight process.

"Now jest one secon', lemme git tha manual open…" There was a rustling of paper. "Ahem. Now, right, less-see here. On tha middle is tha eyepiece; there'll be cross-hairs on it." Rock peered through the eyepiece and could see the jungle passing below.

"Found it."

"Now don' lose it. On tha right is ah knob, near tha front. It's fer our speed. Turn it to 150." Rock made the adjustment and the horizontal cross-hair adjusted. "Next is one on the right again, closer to yah. We've got ah wind outta tha north-northwest. Turn to…" There was a pause as Country scribbled on the notepad he always strapped to his leg for making calculations. "Turn it to 'leven an' ah half."

"All set, now what?"

"See tha knob that says Alt.? Set it to 5,000."

"Okay, anything else?"

"One secon', Ah'm gonna transfer control to you. Switch on tha autopilot." Rock flipped the marked switch and two green lights came on. "Okay Rock, yer flyin' tha plane now."

"What?! I'm doing what?"

"Well, tha computer in front of yah's doin' most've tha work. You've got control over yaw, left 'n' right an' tha computer does tha rest. Hang out fer ah moment, Ah'm gonna open tha bomb bay." There was a clunk and whirring of two electric motors that pulled back the bomb bay doors. "Benny, can yah confirm doors open?"

"Doors are open and the bomb bay is clear."

"Roger-dodger. Rock, got that list Ah gave yah?"

"Right here." It was a list of compass headings and time estimations between headings.

"Line up on tha first heading, it'll take yah to our first target. We're gonna hit tha marijuana fields first. Put two bombs on it an' make yer turn at the end of tha field. Tha trigger is on yer right, on push is one bomb." Rock peered through the sight, the marijuana farm easy to pick out of the tangled jungle canopy with its straight, neat and narrow rows. The dirt access road that made a brown scar through the leafy green made spotting the field even easier. Rock adjusted the B-24's heading so the sight lined up perfectly with the field. He let the cross-hair pass a third of the way up the field and pressed the release; then again at two thirds he loosed another bomb.

The two bombs dropped flawlessly, hurtling towards Earth. The combination of guide fins and the weighted ends ensured they fell nose down. Rock watched through the sight as he made his turn, 15 degrees to the left. The first bomb hit ten feet right of his mark and exploded, throwing globs of napalm across a one hundred yard radius. The second bomb detonated three hundred yards ahead and a little left. Flaming napalm consumed the field and acres worth of prime, dank hash blazed fiercely in the morning sun.

Rock sighted on the next field, filled with poppies for making opium and heroin. Two bombs loosed soon saw that field wafting great plumes of thick, grey smoke. On the ground, Rascals were slow to respond. They had been on alert all night, chasing after phantoms and reports of Lagoon members in the dark. They were exhausted, paranoid and in desperate need of sleep. By the time they reacted to the first four explosions, ten acres of marijuana and ten acres of poppies were burning out of control.

Rock made his next turn, heading south now. Country recalculated their wind and speed and Rock readjusted the bomb-sight accordingly. The fuel depot with its twin 20,000 gallon above ground tanks and filling station appeared in his sight. One bomb was let go with the sight between the fuel tanks and the second onto the filling station. The explosions of the TNT ruptured the tanks and spilled fuel ignited in an explosion heard in the plane 5,000 feet up and in Roanapur miles away. The filling station caught fire as well and the flames were so hot the asphalt pads around the buildings melted.

"Doin' good Rock!" Country cheered as Rock made a long, slow loop north. "Ah felt tha bang from that one."

"This is an amazing sight, it hits wherever I put it."

"W'all tha sayin' was you can put ah bomb into ah pickle barrel at 40,000 feet. Now tha warehouse is next, put two through tha roof." Rock could see the grey corrugated metal of the warehouse roof. It was packed to the rafters with crates of ammunition, racks of rifles, bales of money to be laundered, marijuana to be processed and sold, spare parts for vehicles and an array of odds and ends a criminal organization needs to operate on a day-to-day basis. Two bombs crashed through the ceiling, the delay on the fuses long enough that they detonated just inside. Globs of napalm clung to boxes and crates, burning fiercely. Ammunition cooked off, grenades exploded in clusters, marijuana and opium blazed ten foot flames. Chemicals for meth boiled and popped their containers, adding themselves as fuel. The fifty Rascals guarding the building fled as the heat was too intense to even approach. Weakened by the heat and shredded by shrapnel, the supports gave way. The roof and walls caved in, crushing the remaining supplies. Under the remaining roof the napalm burned, igniting a box of TNT. The explosion blew a hole through the roof, sending shreds of material through the air. The blast was heard as far as the dockyards.

"Last one Rock!" Country said as he took back control of the plane. "Ah'm takin' us in on this one, hit 'em with whatever ordnance we've got left." Rock felt himself lift off the floor and into the bottom of the Nose turret above him as the B-24 dove. They leveled off just below 1,000 feet. The jungle canopy whipped by, solid as green carpet, as Rock watched through the bombardier observation windows. He looked ahead and saw the radio tower of the Rascal's compound sticking up out of the trees. Country lined up the B-24 with the compound and they began their run.

Rock didn't need to use the bomb-sight this time. They were so low it was impossible to miss. He pressed the release button evenly eight times, loosing the rest of the bombs. The first two hit the motor pool and rows of trucks caught fire. Two more bombs hit the buildings with meth and crack labs, and the chemicals burst into blue, green and purple flames. The building containing meth disintegrated in the resulting explosion. The main command building with the radio tower was bracketed with bombs five and six. The building was covered in napalm and the tower collapsed from the TNT's shock-wave that knocked it free from its base. The last two bombs smashed into what had been Lin's office and the barracks near the gate. Napalm was splashed over the entire compound, coating everything in an inferno of sticky globs. Rascal soldiers hit with the napalm ran screaming in pain, trying to pluck the gel from their skin and clothes. The heat from the burning substance cooked their flesh, roasting them. Hot, thick smoke seared their lungs and they collapsed gasping and coughing for air. The few that escaped the blasts set up machine guns among the wreckage or used their AK-47's to fire back.

_Ping!...Ting!...Thunk! Th-whack-whack-whack!_ Rounds from Rascal guns bounced harmlessly off the _Roanapur Raider's_ armor plating. Country brought the plane around, holding off by a quarter mile.

"Bombs complete?" He asked.

"Bombs complete!" Rock answered as he scooted out from the bomb-sight and took his seat in the Nose. He plugged back into the intercom and asked what they were going to do next.

"W'all…" _Plunk!...Thwang!_ "Whaddyah y'all think?"

"I think we should give 'em a go-over or two…or three." Revy suggested as she swung the Ball around.

"I second the motion." Dutch almost growled from the Top turret. "I'm sick of dealing with these fucking Rascals. Country, keep us at this distance, angle a bit so we all can pile on."

"Aye-aye Cap'n." Country held the B-24 at a quarter mile out, banking in a long, slow loop around the compound. Four turrets swiveled around so eight fifty caliber machine guns were brought to bear on target and opened fire. The remaining Rascal troops were decimated, their ranks ripped to shreds by the unrelenting volleys. Bodies exploded from the impact of dozens of rounds, mangled corpses fell in piles three deep. Trucks were worked over as well, windows shattered, tires popped, engines were bored with holes, gas tanks ruptured and then ignited from the napalm flames. Buildings were perforated with holes; the wooden walls did nothing to slow the bullets from reaching those hidden inside. Explosions from chemicals, gasoline and ordnance only spread globs of napalm further and soon the entire compound was on fire. The remaining resistance ceased firing as the growing firestorm sucked up the surrounding oxygen. The Rascals, unable to breathe, passed out and succumbed to the inferno.

Incoming fire dropped off and then stopped completely. A group of survivors tried to make their escape by running down the road. Revy spotted them and her turret hummed as it spun around. Two rows of tracers arched down like lightning and ten new bodies lay spread across the road. Then, on their fourth circle, the firing from the B-24 ceased.

"Rounds complete!" Benny said.

"Rounds complete!" Rock added.

"Rounds complete!" Revy reported.

"Rounds complete!" Dutch sounded off.

"We still have those two guns in the Waist." Revy said as Benny retracted her turret. "Wanna put them to use?"

"No, that won't be necessary." Dutch said as he watched another truck explode. "I think we made our point. Country, take us home."

. . .

Bao didn't remember fog in the forecast for the day. He had looked out the front window to see a grey cloud wafting in from the north-northwest. It smelled like a mix of skunk, something almost flowery and burning fuel; all mixed together. He had stepped outside and taken a few sample breaths. A few coughs later, he figured out where the smoke was coming from.

'Lagoon must've set the Rascal drug fields on fire.' He thought, shutting the door. From the few sniffs he'd taken, Bao already felt light headed. He decided it would be best to stay inside and wait for things to clear up. That and he wanted to be indoors when the cloud hit the city.

. . .

"Chang…do you smell something?" Balalaika asked, scrunching her face as an array of vapors hit her nose.

"Yeah, what is that?" Chang twisted on the bench. "Smells like…whoa." Both looked back at the city to see a haze, colored by the sun, covering the city. Because of the sun, the cloud took on an almost purple color as it seeped through Roanapaur's streets.

"Whatever it is…" Balalaika fanned her hand in front of her face to try and clear the air. "It stinks like skunk and burning gasoline."

"I know…it sure does." Chang took his sunglasses off and rubbed his eyes. He blinked a few times and she could see his eyes were as red as a Soviet Flag. As he tried to figure out why his head was feeling so fuzzy, she couldn't help but notice how confusion grew across his face. She found it incredibly funny and started giggling, which made him look more confused, which made her laugh even harder. The cycle continued until Chang looked like his brain had taken a vacation and Balalaika was doubled over, shaking with mirth so much no sound escaped her. (Author's note: You know when you're laughing so hard that no sound comes out but you just sit there clapping like a seal? That's what we're dealing with here.)

"What…what's so funny?" Chang forced his second-handed head to function, looking annoyed as Balalaika tried to take some steadying breaths.

"Oh…hehe…you…whoooooooo…" She sat up, wiping away the tears of laughter from her eyes. "You just looked like a dog trying to remember where it buried his bone." She explained, an occasional aftershock of laughter bubbling up inside her. She looked him with lazy-lidded eyes, her mind ah-whir with strange and wild thoughts.

She didn't like him. He was cocky, arrogant, manipulative, full of himself and a braggart. But at the same time…

He felt her staring at him and peered back between his fingers as he rubbed his eyes. She was actually smiling for once. Not like her usual grin that reminded him of a cat playing with an injured mouse, but actual happiness. It wasn't his style to be the butt of a joke, but if she was laughing, it was tolerable.

He didn't like her though. She was cold, harsh, distant, a warmonger and borderline sadistic. But at the same time…

'It seems like a good idea…' They thought, looking at the other. 'I mean, what am I worried about? I'm head of one of the most powerful syndicates in Roanapur. What am I afraid of?' They reasoned, sliding towards the other. 'I've given my life for my organization, why not do something selfish for a change?'

'He's actually quite handsome, when he's not trying too hard to be cool…'

'She's actually quite beautiful, even with the scars and the cold aloofness…" The two mafia heads felt like kids, nervous with butterflies popping up in their stomachs. They looked at each other and sucked up their nerve. Then, finally, they did something they had both longed to do but didn't dare even entertain the thought of: they kissed.

. . .

"What're they doing?" Biu asked as he drew a card from the deck.

"I'm not sure." Boris tried to peer down the dock but couldn't see clearly. "It's too hazy and the sun's too bright."

"Well we have their guns and it doesn't seem like they're killing each other." Biu looked down at his cards. He and Boris were playing cards on the trunk of Chang's sedan. "So they're probably fine. Got any 7's?"

"I agree, and no. Go fish."

. . .

"Thank you for listening to RCR, Roanapur Classic Rock, bringing you the greatest hits of the 50's, 60's and 70's. This week's artist portrait is an experience of audio, the psychedelic sounds of Jimi Hendrix. We're going to continue this portrait with a song from his 1967 album: Are you Experienced? It's certainly fitting for the weather today and the strange effects around town. Jimi called it 'Purple Haze', so kick back, chill out and tune in."

Tha DJ spun that record as Benny drove tha GTO through tha fogged up streets of Roanapur. Ah had ah pretty good idea where all tha fog was comin' from 'cause it was makin' everyone ah little loopy.

_Purple Haze…all in my brain. Lately things don't seem the same…_

_Actin' funny…but I don't know why. _

_ '__Scuse me, while I kiss the sky…_

"Hey, do yah think this fog's coming from…uh…Lin's fields?" Revy asked as we passed Chief Watsup's car. He was stoned as ah gravel road an' jest waved out his window at us.

"I guess. That would…make the most sense." Benny agreed as he tried to keep us on tha road.

"Whatever it is, it's makin' me go goofy." Ah said, lookin' over at Rock 'n' Revy with their slackjaws an' glazed-over eyes. Dutch only coughed once or twice, seemin' unaffected. Or, at least if he was, didn' give any signs. Benny made ah turn an' we started climbin' tha hill, outta tha bowl tha city was nestled in. Up ahead we could see tha Ripoff Church.

"Did…did Eda say anything?" Rock came back to Earth long 'nough to ask half ah question.

"Did Eda say anything about what?" Dutch looked back at us in tha back seat, smilin' like ah buncha idiots.

"About, you know; the thing we do for money."

"That'd be called a 'job'…you doofus." Revy informed Rock an' he had an "Oh yeah! That!" moment. Ah saw Dutch smilin' an' shakin' his head as we pulled up at Tha Church. As he got outta tha car, he said somethin' 'bout us kids bein' lightweights.

Ah would've asked what he said but tha wind at tha top of tha hill was ah lot stronger an' colder than back in town. It hit us smack in tha face an' brought us from stupid to sober in an instant. Tha Church was outta tha line of smoke but had ah good view of it. Sister Eda was watchin' from tha front steps.

"Revy, Rock!" She stood, tossin' away tha butt of her cigarette. "My favorite power couple, it's been a while. Too busy seeing each other to come and see me?" She teased, battin' her eyelashes at Rock who promptly turned red.

"Go and blow a railroad spike before I shove one up your ass." Revy threatened as Eda punched an' played with Revy's buttons.

"Ooo! Somebody's grumpy today; you're no fun anymore Two-Hands." Eda scanned 'round as she searched fer her next target an' found yers truly. "So what about you Country? I hear tell you're hanging around with little Miss Sawyer The Cleaner; you two get your freak on yet?"

"No we ain't, an' ah lovely afternoon to you too Sister." Ah said, tryin' to change tha subject 'fore Eda got too wound up. "Oh an' hello to you Rico." Tha priest in trainin' opened tha door behind Eda an' stuck his head out.

"Sis, who's at the door? Oh, Lagoo…OW!" Eda turned an' bonked Rock on tha noggin' with tha heel of her palm. She kept smackin' him 'round an' back into tha chapel, hollerin' at him tha whole way.

"How many times do I have to tell you to not call me 'Sis'?!" She yelled, goin' in fer another hit.

"Eda!" Sister Yolanda intervened. "Honestly, you two fight like children. Good afternoon Lagoon, I trust you're doing well?"

"As well as we can." Dutch answered.

"Been staying out of trouble?"

"As well as we can." Dutch answered again.

"So you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" She indicated behind us at tha still billowin' cloud of smoke.

"Ehh…we plead tha Fifth ma'am." As said as we tried not to look too guilty.

"Don't worry, I'm not yelling at you or anything. I'm just curious." She smiled an' waved us into tha chapel. "And if you were going to be worried about me judging you Country, I'd have though you'd ask about the morning gift you left the city."

"Oh, yah saw that huh? How'd yah figger it was me?" Ah asked, wonderin' if Sister Yolanda was ah mind reader like Dutch.

"It was clearly your handwriting. I don't think you were in the wrong by the way. If I were the judge at your trial, I would have called it justifiable homicide; maybe given you community service picking up garbage."

"W'all, tha's…not what Ah expected yah to say…but thanks, Ah guess." Ah said as we sat down in tha chapel pews. "So what's this job yah got fer us Eda?"

"And spare us the cryptic metaphors." Revy added.

"Oh fine, bunch of sticks in the mud." Eda sighed and walked over to ah door that lead to tha rest of tha church. "Yo, Doc! I've got some people you'll wanna meet. I think you may recognize some of them." She held open tha door…lo an' behold, out came Tha Doctor; portly build, glasses, beard an' all.

"W'all Hell's bells! Agent Smith, we meet again!" Ah laughed as he recognized me, Rock an' Revy.

"You!" He stuck out an' accusin' finger. "Are you the ones who attacked my laboratory?!"

"We wasn' tah only ones if yah wanna split hairs."

"I'm sure you picked the place over?" He asked rather condescendingly like was jest ah bunch of opportunists with ah case of sticky fingers.

"Wasn't much to pick over yah old lab rat." Revy informed him, still miffed 'bout barely breakin' even with all tha computers we sold off. "Now if you're done judging how we make our living, what do you want?"

"To get out of this vile city, for a start." He said, drummin' his fingers on ah suitcase he was haulin' 'round with him. "Sister Eda said she has already arranged a meeting with someone to take me home, safely. All I need is you to get me there."

"You're in luck Doctor." Dutch said with ah reassurin' smile, his best businessman impression. "Getting people from Point A to Point B is our bread and butter." He directed his attention to Eda. "When do we head out?"

"Tomorrow night. They're finding someone on the other end to send over and will let me know when they're ready."

"Sounds good." He turned to tha rest of us an' said we was dismissed fer now. As Ah walked back outside, he stayed back. Ah heard Dutch say to Eda he wanted to have ah 'quick, private talk.'

. . .

"How're you holding up?" Dutch asked Eda. They had gone to Eda's room to keep out any eavesdroppers.

"I'm fine." She said, tucking a lock of hair back into her habit. It kept springing free so she sighed and just took the habit off, letting her hair down. She then took off her sunglasses and tossed them onto the table.

"You don't seem fine."

"Really? What gave it away?" She asked as she lit a cigarette, holding it to her lips with fingers that shook.

'What didn't give it away?' He thought as she collapsed onto the couch. 'You look exhausted, like you're just running on the pills and nicotine. When did you last eat, sleep?'

"I've been in this line of work a little longer than you." He explained. "You tend to get pretty good at reading people."

"That's always been your specialty anyway. So what do you want? What's with the unscheduled meeting?"

"I'm worried about you."

"Well isn't that sweet? I said I'm fine."

"You're burning out Eda."

"Am not. I told you I'm fine, what's with this all of a sudden? Why do you care so much now?"

"Because it's my job to care and I have selfish reasons. That and remember what happened to the guy in Laos, remember him?"

"He burned out." She wasn't looking at him, just staring out the window. She could see almost the entire city from here, when it wasn't covered in smoke. Such a beautiful view of such a dirty town.

"And why did he burn out?" Dutch was looking at Eda with his arms crossed. An outside observer would have said it looked like he was a teacher giving a struggling student some tough-love guidance.

"He stayed at his post for too long and didn't ask for help."

"That's right. And where did that get him?"

"Sprawled out on his living room floor with his service gun in his mouth." She forced herself to look at him, trying to appear stronger than she felt. "So is that what you're worried about? That I'm going to waltz into the chapel with my Glock and blow my head off?"

"No, I'm just trying to make a point. As willing as the heart may be, nobody can do this job forever. Everyone has their limits, even me. It just looks like you're reaching yours."

"I have told you time and again, I can handle anything that comes my way!" She snapped.

"And you've done a good job so far. But you have to remember this is a marathon, not a sprint. If you push yourself too hard, you'll fall within sight of the finish line."

"What do you suggest then? I take my two weeks vacation, drive out to Myrtle Beach?"

"In a way, yes! What's the point of having subordinates if you never use them? Rico isn't here to just be a good kid. Take a few days to ride shotgun and let him drive for a change."

"You make it sound so easy Dutch." She crushed her cigarette out in the ashtray on the table and settled back on the couch. "Just like that! Take a vacation!"

"Yeah, just like that. Two, three days. None of the pills. Sleep late, go to bed early."

"Sure, sure…sure. I'll see what I can do…"

"Don't make me order you to take a mental health break. I will do it." He said, smiling as she sighed and rolled her eyes. That look meant she understood, didn't like it, but wasn't going to keep arguing either.

"Alright, I'll take a break." She conceded.

"Thank you. One more thing: what about Chang and Balalaika?" He asked. "They know The Doctor is here and that you've contacted us about getting him out of the city. I can't seem them just letting us leave."

"Don't worry about it." Eda assured Dutch. "I'll handle Chang and he'll figure out how to deal with Balalaika. I'll call him tonight, set something up."

"Okay, sounds like you've thought things out as usual. That's all I wanted to talk about today, I'm going to get the _Black Lagoon_ ready." He turned to leave; his hand was on the door.

"Hey." She stopped him with a single, softly spoken word. "When I take my vacation, I'm still allowed to socialize and spend time with my coworkers right?"

"Of course. And when you do, you know where to find me."

. . .

"Man ah-live, what's he doin' in there?" Ah wondered while we waited by tha GTO outside.

"None of our business." Revy answered automatically. "It's not our place to ask what Dutch does in his personal life."

"But yer gonna bug Eda non-stop 'bout it though ain'cha?"

"Well duh." She said like Ah'd asked if tha sky were blue. "What kind of ditz do you take me for?" Ah was 'bout to try an' work out ah response that wouldn' git me shot when Rock's phone rang.

"Lagoon Company, this is Rock speaking. H…hello? Miss Balalaika, is that you?"

"Put 'em on speaker." Tha four of us gathered 'round tha phone an' took part in one of tha strangest conversations Ah've ever heard.

"Who's…who's there?" Mizz Balalaika sounded like she was more blitzed than mah high school football team's offensive line.

"It's Rock Miss Balalaika, you called us."

"Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, I did, didn't I?"

"Yes…so is there something you want…is this just a call to say hi?"

"Uhm…yes, just give me a second." Ah looked down tha hill at where tha city _had _been. Roanapur sits in ah bowl; tha ridge we were on surrounds it. Tha winds comin' from tha west pass right over it because of tha mountains in tha center of tha island. It makes tha harbor really stable, but don' do much fer givin' tha city some breeze. So tha smoke would git pushed into tha bowl an' jest sat there. All we could see were a few of tha taller buildin's that stuck outta tha cloud. Ah could hear tha sirens of tha fire department wailin' as they headed out to try an' put out tha napalm we'd dropped. There must've been ah lot more marijuana than Ah'd thought, given how tha smoke was rollin' in. Poor Mizz Balalaika must've been right in tha thick of tha cloud.

"Okay, okay." She was back. "Soooo…what did you guys do?"

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?" Rock asked, wavin' at Revy to keep quiet. She was almost ready to burst from suppressed laughter. "We're just up at The Church right now."

"No, we, we saw the B-24 take off and heard explosions…what's up with that?"

"Nothing Big Sis." Revy chimed in. "We were just dropping off some candy-grams for the Rascals."

"Ohhhhh….well that's nice. Hee-hee, stop it!" There was ah second, muffled voice on tha other end an' tha sound of Mizz Balalaika gigglin' like ah high schooler. Benny, Rock, Revy an' Ah all looked at each other, down at tha phone, each other, then back to tha phone. Hearin' her laugh like that was akin to seein' ah Jackalope…it didn' register as 'right' in tha brain.

"Noooo…I'm on the phone! Hey, haha, stop it, you're crazy…"

"Everythin' goin' alright on yer end Mizz Balalaika?"

"Is that Lagoon you're talkin' to?" Mister Chang joined tha party. By tha sound of his voice, he was either in tha thick of tha smoke with Mizz Balalaika or had jest gotten back from ah Cheech 'n' Chong concert. "Here, lemme have the phone. I wanna talk to them." There was some rustlin' on their end an' ah clatter as someone dropped tha phone.

"Chang you klutz."

"Okay, okay, I got it now…" There was ah long pause. Ah thought fer ah secon' they'd hung up on us.

"Mr. Chang, are you there?" Rock prompted.

"Hey, hey hey hey hey hey…hey. Don', don' rush me." He stopped, takin' in ah deep breath an' pushin' it out like that sentence had been some serious work. "Okay…so, I saw the news annnnnd they said Lin's dead and I was like…that's…awesome. Sooo, what I want to ask is…are the Rascals gone then too?"

"Take a look around Mr. Chang." Rock suggested. "The smoke is all that's left."

"Cool man cool. That's all I want to ask. Well, I'm gonna go and get something to eat. What do you think Balalaika? I'm feeling pizza…"

"Ohmygod. Pizza sounds amazing!"

"Okay, I'll order some. Hello, Giovani's? I'd like to order an extra large pepperoni, sausage, bacon, ham, chicken, pepper, onion and mushroom pizza please."

"Mister Chang…yer still on tha line with us."

"Oh! Right, sorry. My bad." Chang hung up.

"I think this is a proud day." Benny declared. "We took down an entire syndicate by ourselves and managed to get Balalaika, Chang and the entire city of Roanapur stoned in the process." He gazed over the city, his hand on his hips, lookin' like ah general surveyin' conquered territory. "This'll be a day to remember."

. . .

Chai-son wheeled himself through the charred remains of the Rascal's compound. The fire crews had finally subdued the blaze after two hours of intense touch-and-go fighting. The rest of the fires around the island were still being dealt with, the fire department was considering using explosives to put out the fire at the fuel depot the same way oil rig fires are snuffed. The police were zipping up bodies in bags, collecting evidence and interviewing witnesses.

"So what we do now?" One Rascal asked Chai-son. "Since Lin dead, that make you in charge now."

"I don't know." Chai-son sighed tiredly, running his hands across his face. "We done in, organization gone." He pointed his arm off to the west. "Fields gone, warehouse gone, fuel gone…Lin gone. We fucked, done."

"What does that mean?"

"It mean I go to bank, take out all my money, leave Roanapur and retire."

"And do what?"

"Something honest and easy. Maybe open bar, I think of something."

"So what rest of us do?" The Rascal spoke for the remaining soldiers. Only about two hundred and fifty had survived the attack and only fifty of those were currently present.

"Whatever suits you."

"But Lagoon…"

"Fuck Lagoon! Don't you get it?!" Chai-son snapped, turning himself to face the soldier. "Lagoon won! We lost! That's it, gone, over, done, finished, goodbye!" He wheeled himself over to his waiting taxi. "What you all standing for? You all fired! Go get real jobs!" The driver helped him into the car and he slammed his door shut behind him. The taxi pulled away, heading for the mainland road. As it neared the bridge, Chai-son's cell phone rang.

"Who this, what you want?"

"It's me, Lin's boss." The Benefactor sounded worried and his voice wavered. "He hasn't been answering his phone and neither has The Doctor. What's going on?"

"Doctor is gone, vanished. Probably is with Lagoon, but could also be dead in alley or halfway around world, I not know. Mistah Lin? Oh, he certainly dead. Country string him up from traffic light like piñata. Then today all our shit blown up and burn down. We through."

"Through?! What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Roanapur Rascals are disbanded, no longer exist. I lose many friends, even legs, for Rascals and fighting your fight, but we done. There no amount of money to make it worth. You want to step into ring, mess in Roanapur? Get old-man ass on plane and do yourself. Be real man and fight own fights. Fuck you and goodbye forever!" Chai-son hung up, rolled down his window and threw his phone away. It bounced off one of the bridge supports, off the hand railing and splashed into the river below.

. . .

* * *

And so ends the saga of the gang known as The Roanapur Rascals. I was trying to figure out how their fall would come and I couldn't think of any better way than an air raid! I mean, if I were a Rascal on the receiving end of a napalm strike, that would pretty much do it for me. Lets see, what else? I noticed that I have a habit of getting characters stoned and then they swap spit...I wonder what that says about me? Balalaika and Chang seem like the couple that secretly want to be together, but pick on each other in front of everyone else to keep up appearances. Also, I picked up something going on behind the scenes with Dutch in the anime and manga, there is more to that man than meets the eye. He and Eda will be interesting to work with through the upcoming chapters. Finally, let me know how I did and what you liked/hated in the review box at the bottom, thank you as always for reading!

P.S. The events in the Halloween short I published, "A very Hick Halloween" do not necessarily reflect character relationships at this time or future in "Redneck of Roanapur". Sorry for any confusion.


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